Ripple Effect
by Katharra
Summary: BtVS/LOTR - Strange creatures start popping up in Sunnydale...Last chapter, yay!
1. Prologue

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PROLOGUE

Above, people strolled the streets, browsed the shops, sipped coffee, argued, thought alone and walked away. Teenage girls traveled in packs of five, momentarily ceasing their incessant giggling to point at a new handbag in a store window. Teenage boys rolled through crowds on rackety skateboards, jumping the curbs and planters, ignoring and absorbing the glares of shoppers with pride. Young women commiserated with each other over expensive lattes, complaining about college, distant homes and even more distant but ever-present boyfriends. Stressed mothers dreamed of college years while touting the hands of a five year old and two year old, past memories whisking her away from the eternal whining of spoiled children. And grown men very wisely stayed away from the cruel playground of Sunnydale shoppers.

Below, the sun never touched. Below, there were no cliques, no homework, no straying husbands and uncontrollable mortgages. Below, there was only the instinctive will to survive. And survival could only exist with the petty throes of Sunnydale.

The threat to survival was not a shortage of prey. Quite the opposite as there was a downright smorgasbord of food available to them. No, the threat to them, to him, was much smaller.

And more blonde.

"Buffy." It hissed. It, was He, The First. A king among vampires, very nearly a god among vampires. Soon to be among men, too.

The First sat in a throne, in a deep cavern surrounded by tunnels that went on for miles underneath the bustling place that was Sunnydale. Engulfed with torch-lit fire, this cavern was his kingdom. But now, he felt the need to expand and to conquer.

There were circumstances barring him from achieving his goal. Moronic vampire minions, an annoying little Slayer, and that bright thing called the sun. Imagine a world, shrouded in darkness…

The First sighed in relief at the thought of it. Ghastly yellow fingernails on a grey hand rubbed his forehead. If he weren't so dead he'd probably have a headache by now.

"Master?" Came a tentative call.

"What?" He grumbled from underneath his hand.

"We found it."

The First raised his head slowly, pushing down his anticipation for he had felt the bitter hand of disappointment before.

Two young vampires approached him meekly, but carrying between them an ornately carved box made of solid gold. The symbols carved into the top of the box were entirely alien to the two, but were instantly recognized by The First.

He reached for the golden box with trembling fingers. His tongue snaked out from behind his fangs to lick his blue lips. He opened the box and gasped.

The two vampires feared for their lives and quaked in their leather biker boots. But instead of crushing their necks as he had done to countless others, The First looked up at them and smiled.

"Excellent." 


	2. A Hunt in Mirkwood

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A Hunt in Mirkwood

"And tell me, friend Legolas. Since when do spiders leave the trail of Orcish markings?" Aragorn crouched on the ground studying several sets of footprints, quite obviously Orc, imbedded in the soft soil.

Legolas was in the middle of supposedly tightening the string on his bow, but he did manage to create an image of surprise by shooting up his eyebrows and leaning in to take a closer look.

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "You don't fool me Prince. Spiders have not been this way for some time, for the boughs of the trees carry no souvenir of their nests. And these markings tell me that Orcs have not passed here very long ago. They are still fresh."

Legolas merely shrugged at Aragorn's insinuation and went back to studying his perfect bow.

Aragorn growled under his breath as he rose to his feet. "Legolas, this is pure foolishness! We are but two. I count at least twenty different sets of prints. And undoubtedly these Orcs are going back to a larger encampment." He reasoned.

Legolas nodded. "Then it is my royal duty to prevent them from doing so."

Aragorn grasped Legolas by both shoulders and shook him. "You knew we were going to hunt them! You lied to me!" He accused through gritted teeth.

Legolas was taken aback. "I did no such thing Aragorn. I asked if you would care to hunt and you agreed. It was you who assumed that we were hunting spiders."

Aragorn sighed in defeat and released Legolas. "We cannot hope to win a fight against twenty strong. We are hopelessly outnumbered."

Legolas balked and waved Aragorn away. "Perhaps for a mere mortal. But for those as skilled as the Elves…"

Aragorn smirked. "Of course. How could I forget the skill of a Mirkwood archer who shot his own guard in the – "

Legolas covered his mouth before he could finish. "You swore secrecy Ranger. Not another word."

Aragorn smiled smugly, but kept any further thoughts to himself. Legolas re-shouldered his bow and began to inspect his surroundings.

"So. Do you have a plan?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas looked to the trees and grinned. Aragorn grimaced.

Uzbal, an Orc with thirty fighting years experience, found himself the appointed leader of the Orc hunting party. He had not been disappointed this day, indeed his party had taken down two full-grown bucks, at least a dozen or so fowl and nice fat boar. Given the rampant appetites of Orcs, the surplus of meat would barely feed the encampment for a week.

His companions were groaning, mumbling to themselves about the weight of their quarry, asking aloud whether they could at least munch on a bird or two, for they had exhausted themselves during the hunt. In reality cruel traps laden with sharp poisoned teeth actually performed most of the hard work.

"Can't we start a fire at least?" A young Orc questioned.

Uzbal's clawed hand clenched the hilt of his dagger as he growled at his pestering hunters.

"Lets 'ave jus' one 'o them birdies eh?" Suggested an old geezer of an Orc.

Uzbal reared on his dissenters and spat his words in their faces. "How's about I chop off your lips so's we can all have a light snack an' I won't have to listen to another word out o' you!"

Snickers and hoots of laughter erupted around Uzbal. He was still glaring at his two complainers, who were now pouting, when a slight rustle diverted his attention. He held up his hand and the Orcs immediately stopped chattering and listened, sniffing the air experimentally. A bird flew from a tree, wings flapping madly as it darted far and clear from the invading Orcish nuisance.

Uzbal snorted and bade the others to continue about their way. But there was a nagging thought still lingering. Again, he snorted and pushed the feeling away.

It would prove to be a deadly mistake.

One of Mirkwood's finely fletched arrows imbedded itself deep in Uzbal's lung, piercing his artery as it passed. He managed a gurgling gasp before he collapsed face down.

The other Orcs dropped their meaty prizes unceremoniously and reached for their daggers and arrows, yowling with surprise and rage. More arrows rained down from above, thick arrows used by Rangers mixed with elegant Elvish ones, all felling their Orcish counterparts with deadly accuracy.

The Orcs with bows began to blindly fire into the treetops, while the remaining Orcs scattered, becoming disorganized and disoriented. 

A strange whistle pierced the air, which the Orcs could not decipher but nonetheless recognized as a means of communication between two parties.

The whistle from Aragorn relayed his message to Legolas that he was dropping to the ground to give chase. Legolas acknowledged his message with a high pitched whistle of his own, roughly translating to mean that he would stay in the trees and give his companion cover.

Aragorn dropped to the ground and took off running without a moment's hesitation. In truth, Aragorn would seek any excuse to be set down from the high limbs of Mirkwood's great trees, for years of living as a Ranger had left him accustomed to surviving off the land and not in the heights in many of Middle Earth's forests.

Legolas' arrows whizzed by his ears with deadly intent as he ran with his sword at his side. With a bellowing war cry, Aragorn brought his sword down in a sharp diagonal swipe, neatly and brutally dislodging an Orc's head from its body. A strong thrust through the ribcage felled another howling Orc. Spinning around, he swung his sword out, catching an Orc in the side.

Legolas too dropped to the ground after taking care of the Orc archers, who proved to be more clumsy with a bow and arrow than an Elfling. He now stood but a few metres from Aragorn's back, firing arrow after arrow in quick succession.

The battle came to an abrupt stop after the remaining seven Orcs and the two warriors were all startled by a loud clap, like a raging roll of thunder. Aragorn took a moment to study Legolas, who was now looking to the sky. Concern etched his face as he turned back to Aragorn; there was not a storm cloud in sight.

A severe flash of light blinded both Aragorn and Legolas, and the seven Orcs yelped in pain. Legolas squinted from behind a shielding hand and gasped.

It looked as though the forest itself had been ripped in half; a large chasm could be seen not in the ground but in the air. Lightning streaked around its edges giving off the blinding light. And if Legolas looked close enough, he thought he could see an odd darkness, and shapes that appeared to be that of trees and stones, but they were not of Mirkwood. Legolas shuddered as he suddenly felt cold. Whatever he was seeing was undoubtedly of an evil nature.

An unnatural wind picked up, swirling leaves violently and both Legolas and Aragorn struggled to stay upright against it. The Orcs were screaming now, terrible squeeks and barks of what sounded like pain.

Then Legolas could see; they were being sucked into the fissure, clawing at the ground as some unseen force deftly grasped Orc after Orc and flung them into the swirling chaos. Aragorn momentarily lost his balance and Legolas lunged for him with one hand and wrapped his other arm around a thick oak to prevent both man and Elf from going the way of the Orcs.

Legolas' hair whipped around his face as he found he could no longer keep his eyes open. When his arms felt like they could take no more, it stopped.

Legolas and Aragorn both dropped to the ground, exhausted from fighting the wind.

Aragorn looked around him bewildered. The chasm was gone; all traces of the Orcs, even the dead bodies of the fallen had entirely disappeared. A few daggers and bits of clothing were scattered on the forest floor, but that was all.

"What sorcery could do this?" Aragorn whispered.

Legolas looked just as shaken as Aragorn was. "I know not." He stood slowly, offering a helping hand to his Ranger friend.

"We must tell my father."


	3. FLD

****

F.L.D

For reasons unknown, even to the very wise, Sunnydale never seemed to have enough working streetlights. The streets and sidewalks, buildings and alleyways were always encompassed with the lethargic sputtering of weak fluorescent lights, and just when one thought they needed a miner's hat to navigate through the city, one street lamp would flicker to life. For a while anyway. It was something that nagged at Buffy Summers when she first moved to Sunnydale, apart from the fact that the name was ironic enough.

"Ironic."

Spike abruptly halted in his tracks. "What?"

Buffy snapped her fingers. "Sunnydale. Took me forever to figure out what irony was. Why didn't my teachers just use that example? Imagine some moron calling the portal to hell, Sunnydale. It's very _ironic, _don't you think?"

Spike was stumped. "Very." He was about to start walking again, but instead faced Buffy with concern. "Have you been drinking Slayer?"

But Buffy was lost in thought. "So what was that smiley thing then?"

Spike huffed. "It's simile."

"What?"

Spike turned to face her again, a little impatient. "It's not smiley, it's simile. It's a comparative form of – " The poet that Spike once was, was about to lecture the young lady on her lack of language knowledge but quickly stifled his thoughts when he reminded himself that poets were officially girly boys and he was a macho vamp. "Nevermind." He said as he waved her off. A macho vamp with a chip in his head. Which prevented some of his macho-ness. But by god, he looked good in leather.

For added effect, he swaggered his walk a bit. So involved was he in his new bad-ass walk that he didn't notice his boot heel catching on a crevice in the sidewalk and before his horrified mind could fathom what was transpiring, Spike fell forward and landed in a spectacular face plant.

"Spike are you alright?" Buffy was staring down at the fallen vampire with a puzzled look on her face.

"Bloody lights." He murmured as he rubbed his right knee. "Can't see a soddin' thing."

"I thought vamps were supposed to have night vision." Buffy tried to soften her low blow with a kind smile but Spike would have none of it. He glared at her and growled underneath his breath as he got to his feet.

"Well," Buffy sighed, "we're here." She swung her nylon gym bag off her shoulder, letting it clatter to the ground. Crouching behind it, she unzipped the bag to reveal a full arsenal of weaponry. "So, do you want the crossbow, shiny dagger or Mister Pointy?" Mister Pointy was, of course, Buffy's trusty sidekick stake, battle-ravaged with dried vampire and demon blood, and roughened edges that inflicted nasty splinter wounds.

"Crossbow." Answered Spike as he reached for the weapon. He pointed it experimentally at a tree, squinting as he imagined an opponent.

Buffy was still kneeling on the ground beside the bag. "You didn't have to come." She said quietly. "Tuesday nights are usually pretty dry for patrolling."

A sudden thought struck Spike. "It's 'cause American Idol's on."

Buffy looked at him ludicrously. "What?"

Spike laughed to himself. "Simon's a genius."

Buffy shook her head as she straightened to her feet. What the hell was American Idol? She rarely watched tv anymore.

"Besides," Spike said, turning to face her, "I wanted to come." And he smiled at her, genuinely.

Buffy returned the smile, also genuinely.

A low growling from inside the cemetery caught their attention and effectively killed the moment.

"Lets go to work."

Less than 15 minutes after it began, Buffy sat on top of a decorative stone table in the cemetery, picking at ashes that were trapped under her fingernails while Spike smoked a cigarette. 

"Can you even inhale that?" Buffy asked. Spike shrugged and flicked the butt away. He stood and stretched as Buffy sat back, leaning on her elbows.

"Why can't it be more like this?" She asked, staring up at the night sky.

"Like what?"

"Peaceful. Quiet."

Spike looked around. "That's 'cause everyone's dead."

Buffy shook her head. Spike had an innate ability at stating the obvious and ruining a perfectly serene moment. Didn't he used to be poet?

Without warning, a concussive force knocked Buffy clear off her perch and right into Spike's back. The two landed in a very ungraceful heap on top of a grave.

"What the bloody hell?!" Spike was about to go on a profanity-strewn tirade but was cut short by a stinging pain in his eyes. Buffy held a protective hand over her face as a blinding flash of white suddenly solved the lack of light problem in the graveyard. Her once perfectly coifed up-do was blown apart by a wicked gust of wind that was picking up littered pieces of trash and hurtling them through the air, occasionally smacking Buffy and Spike in the face.

The unseen assault lasted for a few minutes at most, but Buffy and Spike were slow to pick themselves up off the ground. Buffy walked cautiously to her black bag containing the weapons, nerves slightly jostled from the hair-raising event. She clutched her precious stake at chest level and slowly walked toward the treed area behind the graveyard.

She stopped. "Spike, what are you doing?"

The platinum-haired vampire was pawing at her hair. "You're a mess bit. Got crap all tangled up in there."

Buffy slapped his hand away and continued her stalking toward the forest. "Do you know anyone in your circle that's opening up inter-dimensional portals?" She whispered.

"My 'circle'? Bit presumptuous of you, ain't it? And for your information, no. I don't know anyone who's looking to open up more real estate."

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, but secretly felt a pang of regret for insinuating his involvement. "Whatever it was, it was powerful."

Spike was sniffing the air. "Powerfully stinky too." His nose wrinkled. "That don't smell like anything from these parts."

Buffy regarded him for a moment before continuing. "Well, lets see what's behind tree number two."

It was Buffy's turn to wrinkle her nose as she found a very ugly and very dead…thing? "That's a funny looking demon." She stated. "You ever seen one that looks like that?"

Spike was shaking his head as he knelt beside the body to get a better look. The body lay on its stomach with its head turned to the side and one visible eye. It had deep gashes above its closed eye, although the wounds looked to be several years old. The demon had greenish skin, sparse bits of black wiry hair on its head and distinctly pointed ears. It had on crude bits of clothing and a long dagger that was still sheathed in a black leather scabbard.

"Don't look much like a local." Offered Spike.

"Turn it over."

Spike did as told and rolled the body over onto its back. Both Spike and Buffy grimaced with disgust. The mouth was opened revealing a gruesome set of fanged and decaying teeth. But even more interesting was the long arrow deeply buried in its chest.

Buffy reached down and grasped the end of the arrow and with a sickening slurp, wrenched it free.

"'Kay, that was gross." Said Spike who turned his head away from the bloody arrow.

"Blood's black." Muttered Buffy as she inspected the arrow. "This is a pretty nice piece of work. Whoever shot him took pride in his work."

"Another Slayer?" Asked Spike.

Buffy shook her head. "Not Slayer. But definitely a hunter of some sort. I'm taking this back. We've got some reading to do."

Spike got to his feet. "Correction. You've got some reading to do, I've got some sleeping to do."

But Buffy was completely ignoring him as she continued to study the craftsmanship of the arrow.  
"Uh, Buff? What about the body?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't think he's going anywhere."

It was Spike's turn to give her a ludicrous look. 

"Oh! You mean what to do with it. The bushes I guess."

Spike shook his head. "Stench would only attract visitors. Lets take him down to my pad."

Buffly looked grossed out. "And what, you're just going to hang out with dead demon here all day?"

Spike shrugged. "More entertainment than some of your friends."


	4. The Rip in Time

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A little clarification for those of you who asked:

Buffy & Legolas: Maybe Buffy & not Legolas: Maybe LOTR time frame: Before FOTR. Shameless plug: I recently wrote a story concerning early moments in Legolas' life, including when he met Aragorn. I'm going to sort of stick to that storyline. Buffy time frame: Here's where it gets complicated. I wanted the First in the story, but I didn't want to set it in the current season. I love being a fanfic author. So here's the deal, it's not going to follow canon. The First is here; Spike and Buffy have some sexual tension going on (but he has not been cursed with his soul); Giles is still here; Tara and Willow are together, alive and not crazy; Enya and Xander are still planning a wedding but we have passed the whole Dawn-is-a-Key thing. So we're sort of in season 6. I think. Hope that helps. 

Anyhoo, on with the story.

****

The Rip in Time

There were five groups of four, all containing three archers and one leader. The leader was the Elf deemed to have the most experience and years to his age of the four; he was also the one considered knowledgeable in the area of Elvish magic. There were very few in the woodland realm who could wield the dark arts to such an extent as witnessed by Legolas and Aragorn, not since the dark days of Dol Goldur and the aiding help of Radagast the Brown.

"Were he here with us now." Thranduil murmured under his breath.

"Father?" Legolas questioned. The Prince regarded his King with apprehension. It was not in his father's nature to accompany scouting and hunting parties.

Thranduil waved off his son's concern. After Legolas and Aragorn returned from their 'hunting' trip and announced what they had encountered, Thranduil found his heart stirring with anxiety. His son's tidings troubled him deeply. What new shadow threatened his Kingdom? Although he would not admit it, Thranduil was tiring. The constant bloodshed of defending against Mirkwood's enemies was wearing upon him. And this new threat was perplexing; what sort of evil power goes after its own?

"My lord," prompted a low tenor voice. "We are nearing the point of disturbance." Calenuil was Thranduil's oldest and most trusted advisor. He was also Thranduil's younger sibling and greatest of friend.

Thranduil nodded. His pulse quickened; some undeniable warning was gnawing at his heart.

He gave the signal for three groups to take to the trees should some unwarranted attack by roving Orcs take them by surprise; which in broad daylight was highly doubtful.

The King leaned in slightly to his son and mortal friend. "Are you sure it was here, Legolas?"

"Positive my lord." Whispered Legolas. Aragorn nodded in agreement.

Calenuil was crouching, studying the tracks in the ground. Aragorn joined him and began pointing out certain spots. "This was where we engaged them. The first to fall was taken down by Legolas' arrow; he fell here. We drove them back and they began to scatter. It was over there, that is where the opening occurred." Aragorn pointed in front of him, only a few metres away.

Calenuil shivered. He felt an odd chill that age and experience readily told him was a remnant of some dark spell. "Thranduil…"

"I feel it." Thranduil felt his skin crawl with the telltale warning that dark forces were at hand in this forest.

"We should turn back my lord." Calenuil said in a voice so low that only his King's Elvish ears would hear it.

Thranduil stayed his brother's line of thinking with an upheld hand. "I would know what this evil's purpose is before we fled prematurely from it."

"I do not think it premature my lord. My instincts bade me to turn back. This power, however unknown to us, it is unharnassed. Even Elvish magic cannot control it."

Thranduil turned to his brother with eyes that were stern in their countenance. "How say you that we cannot control it when we do not seek to know it first? And what if it grows, Calenuil? What if it were to reach the Kingdom?" Thranduil searched his counsel's face for agreement, but was met only with Calenuil's foreboding look. Thranduil sighed. "I will not allow that evil to come upon my doorstep. Not while I am King."

"What are you looking at?" Asked Legolas.

Aragorn was staring intently at the bark of an old and weary tree. "It is singed here. See how it still smokes? This burn is old, yet it stays fresh. It is unnatural."

Legolas' face was drawn as he studied the tree. "It will burn it from the inside out. That is a cruel death."

Aragorn faced his friend and was struck by the sadness there. A stranger may have thought it melodramatic that one would be so sympathetic towards a tree. But for the Elves, particularly those in the woodland realm, a tree's pain was their pain, for they heard the life within the tree. It was a gift that no man could ever hope to possess.

"They burn us all from the inside out."

Aragorn was brought out of his thoughts by Legolas' soft comment.

"Why do you say that?"

"How long has it been since we were Greenwood the Great? And how adaptable we must be."

"What do you mean?" Aragorn was growing worried. He could hear the King and his counsel arguing in the background; they made no move to disguise their voices. The Elves in the trees were doing nothing to conceal themselves as their restless movements caused leaves and twigs to fall about them. And now Legolas.

"We are masters at adapting to darkness. When the other Elves of the world bask in their glorious untouched realms, we of Mirkwood face yet another foe. You would not believe it, son of Elrond, but once our Kingdom was as great and beautiful as your own Rivendell. Tell me, how goes life in Rivendell?"

His tone was biting. Aragorn held up two hands in a gesture of calm, but Legolas' eyes had turned stormy. "Legolas…"

"I know. It is wrong of me to seek fault with our kin." He spat his words in Aragorn's direction. "For what could they possibly do? Undoubtedly they would do what they have always done. Absolutely nothing."

The Elves all around them were arguing loudly. Aragorn himself felt a pounding throb in his head, so great was the pain that his vision blurred and his breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. "Legolas," Aragorn said while rubbing his forehead with one hand. "I know it is difficult – "

"You know nothing!" Legolas yelled. Aragorn cringed under the assault, not only from Legolas' voice, but also from the blinding pain at the base of his skull. "You are a human! A mere mortal! What cares could you possibly have with my kind? Ai, how I forget. It was your kind, your own bloodline that helped us here. I have you to thank for my misery!"

"Legolas you are not yourself!" Aragorn shouted and nearly dropped to his knees from the pain that it caused him.

Legolas could feel the rage boiling within him. His fists clenched and unclenched, his entire muscles were shaking with the anticipation of striking at his…friend? Something was not right. As his mind attempted to sort out his current situation, a dull throbbing erupted behind his eyes. He began to rub his temples, mimicking Aragorn's actions.

"Aragorn, what am I doing?" He asked weakly.

Aragorn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I do not think it is you, my friend. I think there is a spell upon us. We should leave this place."

Legolas nodded wearily; he suddenly felt exhausted. Aragorn stumbled in his walk as though he were wading in mounds of mud. It took every effort and ounce of concentration just to keep one foot in front of the other.

A booming roll of thunder instantly ended all bickering arguments among the wood Elves. Startled and bewildered they all looked to the sky, all except Legolas and Aragorn. Legolas' eyes grew wide as he felt Aragorn clutch his shoulder with one hand. Aragorn closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as silence descended on the forest.

"We should have left sooner."

The fissure opened, exactly in the same spot it had before, only this time it seemed twice as large and twice as powerful. Tendrils of lightening snaked out, scorching the earth and trees wherever they touched. Legolas and Aragorn turned their heads from the onslaught of blinding light but heard several voices cry out from Elves who did not shield their eyes. The gusts of wind felt like an actual hand slamming into them, forcing the air out of their lungs. The trees moaned and swayed violently in the wind, as darkness seemed to swallow the air around them.

Legolas heard Aragorn cry out and reached for his hand only to find that it was no longer there. His heart thumped in his chest as he lunged for Aragorn who was flailing against a force that was sucking him into the chasm. Legolas called his name but found his voice was drowned out by the howling gale of wind. With a giant leap, Legolas threw himself onto the ground and grasped both Aragorn's hands. The only problem was, he had nothing to anchor their weight to. They were both slowly being dragged into the opening.

"Legolas!" Thranduil bellowed. Without thinking the King started forward, panicking for his son's life. Calenuil grabbed his liege from behind and was forced to use all his strength to keep Thranduil from throwing himself in the fissure. 

"Thranduil, no!"

Legolas knew he could not fight it, but oddly he felt no fear. If this was to be his death, then so be it. His body jerked with the pang of electrified jolts as he neared the edges, and as he fell in and blackness consumed him, he heard his father crying out his name.

He was suddenly sad, for he had forgot to bid his father a fond farewell.


	5. Wake Up to Sunny Sunnydale!

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Here you are B-slayer: 

Again, sorry, not sticking to canon. That whole without-a-body-thing-using-dead-people kind of freaks me out. That and I wanted something with flesh and blood. You'll see in later chapters why. Fellowship of the Ring. Feel free to point anything out. I read all my reviews and take them seriously, so if you find something that doesn't fit, please comment. Thanks for reading! ****

Wake up to Sunny Sunnydale

The first thing Aragorn felt was the sun on his left cheek. His drowsy mind was slowly beginning to register that unconsciousness was fleeing but still had no desire to force his eyelids open. His fingers twitched on his left hand reflexively and were greeted with pointy blades of grass tickling his fingertips. The last remnants of his darkened state were leaving; he inhaled deeply, absorbing the aroma of the grass. Opening his eyes, Aragorn made two significant discoveries: one, that he was sprawled face down and his sword was digging into his hip rather painfully; and two, that he was not where he should be.

Although where he should be, he was not sure of. His foggy mind and blurry vision led him to believe that he was either drugged or had been knocked unconscious. But how long ago?

With a groan Aragorn rolled onto his back, immediately relieving the pressure on his hip. He brought a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun, although he did not recall it being this hot. After breathing in deeply for a few moments, Aragorn realized that something smelled odd. He pushed himself into a sitting position, still shaking off the effects of sleep. There it was again; that funny smell. He sniffed experimentally and looked about him. Where in Arda was he? This whole place smelt terrible!

Aragorn slowly got to his feet, rubbing his neck where it felt like he had slept on it in an awkward position. He took in the short trees and thick bushes around him with confusion. Since when did Mirkwood have shrubs?

Mirkwood! The thought galvanized him as his memory suddenly resurfaced. The rip that appeared in thin air, the scouting parties, the arguments brought on by a spell, the…

Where was Legolas? The Ranger could clearly remember the Elf's hands holding on firmly to his forearms as they were dragged into the fissure; Aragorn was sure they had fallen into darkness together. But Legolas was not near him. Aragorn's pulse quickened in anxiety, but he dared not call his friend's name aloud for fear of unknown enemies at bay.

Aragorn searched the ground for any tracks that indicated Legolas' presence, but even with the tracking experience of a Ranger, he could find no trace of his Elven friend.

Legolas could not directly remember the act of falling, although he distinctly registered the sharp pain in his cheekbone after he landed. With a grunt of pain he picked himself up off the ground but was rewarded only with nausea-inducing dizziness. He struggled for balance only briefly and feeling considerably more composed than he had been, he set off to…

Oh, this did not look good.

Adrenaline surged through his veins as his Elven senses were bombarded on all fronts. He saw humans, scores of them, clothed in odd garb unlike any he'd ever seen in his travels. And they were looking at him, pointing, whispering, full out staring. Legolas had never been one to be self-conscious, but then again, he had never been the centre of attraction before. He was more than uncomfortable with it, for he knew their attention was not necessarily in good tidings.

There were carts, wagons of some kind, but they moved with nothing to pull them, horse or otherwise. It was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

He was obviously in a city of some kind, but it left Legolas bewildered. True, he had never seen the mortal cities of Osgiliath and Minas Tirith, but he doubted they looked anything like this. It was bizarre, highly alien and what in the name of the Valar was that smell? For a place that had no horse in sight it certainly smelt like they had trouble cleaning up after them.

When his full level of panic had finally been reached, Legolas knew he must find a hiding place of sorts. He turned to leave only to find himself faced with a speeding wagon, careening out of control for it was headed straight for…him. With lightening-fast reflexes, Legolas did the only thing he could do – he jumped.

And landed on the hood of a blue Ford Taurus.

The lone male occupant shrieked like a twelve-year-old girl at the sight of a young man in a Christmas costume that he was about to plaster like road kill and was now standing gracefully on his hood. The kid was staring at him quizzically, like jumping on the hoods of speeding cars was nothing new to him.

The thirty-year-old computer salesman had just been telling his coworker that Sunnydale could be a pretty boring place compared to L.A., but now – there was some crazy acid freak playing high-speed-high-jump with his Taurus!

He exited the driver's side with shaking hands; he thought for sure that he was going to smoke the kid when he first saw him. Alright, so he hadn't really been paying attention to the road, but what kind of nut just hangs out in the middle of the street?

"Hey, you okay?" He asked, his voice trembling just as much as his hands were. The guy just stood there, on his hood, staring at him with an unrecognizable emotion.

The man was at a loss for words. A crowd had gathered around them now; gosh he hoped no one called the cops. That would have been all he needed on his driving record.

"Hey, you sure you're alright? You didn't like, hit your head or anything?" But still, the weird-looking kid just kept staring at him. The man couldn't help but feel like he was under a microscope, not just from the loonie still hanging out on his hood, but now from the bystanders as well, who were giving dramatic play-by-play reenactments for newcomers. 

"Hey, kid! You speak English?"

Legolas could barely grasp the words coming from the cart-driver's mouth. What kind of Westron was that? The man was now kicking at the ground, jamming his hands in his pocket with a sheepish look on his face.

"You aren't gonna sue, are you?"

"Sue?" Legolas repeated.

Aragorn was first alerted to the overwhelming presence of danger by a high-pitched screeching that made his ears ring. With a warrior's instinct, he rested his hand on his sword hilt in readiness while racing towards the origin of the noise.

He neared a gangly overgrown hedge and peered cautiously over it. His breath caught in his throat with a strangled choke.

Well, on the good side he had now located Legolas. Unfortunately, Legolas seemed to have drawn quite a crowd to himself as he stood on a platform of sorts in the middle of a chattering grouping. Legolas himself seemed to have picked out one of the members of the mob and was cocking his head to the side, whether in attentiveness or scrutiny Aragorn could not be certain from this distance. He had to get Legolas' attention.

"Were you, like, a reject from 'Men in Tights' or something? Cuz you are, like, an actor, right?"

Legolas stared down at a young maiden with an utterly baffled frown. The blond teenager kept winking at him as she sipped noisily from a white paper cup. The Elf was about to ask why her clothes were too short for her torso when he was interrupted by an unmistakable whistle. Relief flooded his features, and with a graceful leap he flew over the heads of the astonished onlookers. He darted over the cemetery hedge and out of sight, much to the chagrin of the females.

Legolas ran up to Aragorn full-steam and embraced his friend with an uncharacteristic exuberance that nearly knocked the man down. Aragorn, slightly puzzled but nevertheless entirely understanding, took Legolas by the arm and guided him to a thickly wooded area.

"Aragorn! Did you see that? There are carts without horses! They move on their own! Isn't that fantastic?! That is a priceless piece of magic, that is. But these humans, they don't speak properly. It is as though their Westron has been tainted somehow. By the way, what is 'sue'? Have you ever heard that phrase before? I don't think it is very good whatever it is. And did you notice that stench? It is everywhere! It is as though – "

Aragorn covered his babbling companion's mouth with a hand to silence the stem of non-stop words. Aragorn had never seen Legolas so completely taken or exhilarated as this.

"Legolas, I do not think we are in Middle Earth. This world, it doesn't feel like ours."

Legolas calmed his abundantly beating heart to consider Aragorn's words and soon found himself studying his surroundings. Aragorn was right; there was something very off about this land. It was as though…

"It feels dead." Legolas said softly, almost sadly. "These tress, they are silent. It is almost like they are overcome with a never-ending sleep." He looked towards the street and his eyes brightened again. "But out there – "

Aragorn grasped the Elf's shoulders, imploring him with his eyes. "I think we must stay away from there." Aragorn knew from first-hand experience that Elves were innately curious, and once their interests were piqued it was difficult to keep them focused on anything but. "We don't belong here Legolas." Aragorn simply stated, quietly.

Legolas sighed inwardly but nodded in agreement with Aragorn.

Satisfied, the Ranger stood and looked about him. "Now we must find shelter. Now, we must find out how to get back."

The Scooby Gang gathered around the large round oak table in the book section of The Magic Box. While Willow, Tara and Xander poured over dusty, antique and occasionally gruesomely-illustrated books, Buffy sat hypnotized by her newest acquisition – the arrow from the demon's chest.

"Like this?" Asked Willow hopefully, holding up a book opened to a page depicting a snarling green demon with red eyes holding an axe.

Buffy frowned. "Shorter and more pointy-eared. No axe."

Willow plopped the book down with a sigh. They had been there for all of last night and the greater portion of today, perusing scores of books on demons, weaponry and inter-dimensional portals, but all with no luck.

Xander rubbed his eyes. "If I have to read about one more ancient, stupid – " he paused as he noticed Buffy glaring at him, "yet finely crafted arrow, well by gosh, I might just start to appreciate them."

"Thank you for spending money here! Please do it again! Soon!" Enya waved away her last customer with her patent overly anxious merchant's smile and made her way to the Scooby table of misery. "I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of all this. So a portal opened up. The only thing that came through was already dead." She reasoned.

"But what is it?" Buffy questioned. "And where did it come from? And who's to say it's the only thing that came through?"

The door to the shop swung open with an intensity that made the steel wind chimes slam together. Dawn came running in, grinning and holding her hands outward with a typical excitable high school girl glee. "Ohmigod! You will not believe what just happened!"

"You discovered how to lick your elbows." Buffy offered, which only resulted in a death glare from her younger sister.

"Ha ha." Dawn said dryly. She turned to the rest of the group with the excitement creeping into her voice with ever mounting velocity. "This guy was dressed up like Robin Hood and this other guy was driving along and nearly ran him over and then Robin Hood jumped right onto his hood at the last second! And he was soooo cute!" She squealed. 

Buffy looked confused. "Robin Hood?"

Dawn nodded quickly. "Mm-hmm. And he was tall, he had long blond hair, and pointy ears, and his eyes were sooo blue and his pants were sooo –"

Buffy cut her off with an upturned palm. "Pointy ears? Robin Hood?"

Dawn shrugged. Buffy got out of her chair and met Dawn eye to eye. "Did he by chance have a bow and arrow?"


	6. Meanwhile

__

Thanks to:

Jayde & Lisette: Jayde, good thinking, you read my mind. Lisette, thanks for the plug. (I've been checking out your story, love it, although I have to admit that we don't get Pretender where I live but I've got a pretty good idea what it's about). And to both; WHOOPSIES! Thanks for the catch. Hope that didn't confuse either of you and have you picturing a willowy British new age singer instead of a reformed vengeance demon. Thanks again!

****

Meanwhile…

There exists in the world, at this very moment, a room. It is a very dark room with no windows to the outside world which leads the outside world to believe that it does not exist. The lights are almost always turned off; illumination is only used when needed, which is very rare for few in this world are granted access to it. There is an elaborate ventilation system set up in this room, the air is cooled and cleansed before entering and after escaping the confines of the room it is recycled through another rigorous purification system and pumped back in.

To an outsider the room is very bare but filled with interesting if somewhat puzzling items. An outsider with no knowledge of the items may treat it like a gift shop; a few unique trinkets here and there, but overall a rather bland thing to experience.

But to those granted access to this small room, it is a place of excitement and awe, power and magic. Those who are able to enter through the thick steel safe-like doors are highly trained in the latter area. They know every single object in the room, its use and its origin. They are the librarians, the janitors and most importantly, the gatekeepers.

There also exists in this world, at this very moment, the outsiders; ignorant and oblivious to the room. But among these outsiders are those that do know of the room in question. For various reasons, all valid in their own right, access is denied to these individuals. But there is a hunger that dwells deeply in the hearts of those denied; so great that it cannot be ignored, especially by those assigned to guard the room and all its possessions. Yet for all the gatekeepers' abilities, for all their safeguarding and protection spells, the hearts of the wicked cannot be held at bay for very long.

Evil always finds a way.

Rupert Giles certainly wasn't opposed to flying – provided, of course, that it didn't last longer than a few hours, which is exactly how long it does not take to reach England. Flying over the immense blue of the Atlantic ocean started the familiar giddy feeling in the pit of Rupert's stomach that he always felt when he neared his home. Unfortunately, the giddy feeling never lasted long for it was immediately replaced with the anticipated anxiety associated with dread. _'Heathrow'_. He thought the name in his head, gritting his teeth against the inevitably approaching headache that had become synonymous with the airport to him. Stepping into the chaotic world that was Heathrow Airport took an impenetrable patience and steely concentration, and that was just to find the baggage claim.

Giles waited patiently between rude and jostling flyers anxious to get on their way. As luck would have it his luggage came last, but ever the optimist, Giles was happy that it came at all. Wading through the scores of travelling Brits and lost tourists took a considerable amount of time and nerves of steel. Finally reaching the automated doors, Giles made a lunge for the exit. A light misty drizzle had settled over the city, bringing with it the sharp odour of ozone. To Giles it smelt like heaven. For all Sunnydale's 'charm' and perfect day after perfect day, nothing felt quite as refreshing as a typically imperfect day in his country of birth.

Taking in all the familiar smells of his youth, he was impervious to the honking car parked directly in front of him, until the driver exited the car and announced his name loudly in his ear.

"Mr. Rupert Giles."

Startled out of his reverie, Giles blinked and finally acknowledged the driver stiffly standing next to him. The young man picked up his bags, stuffing them into the trunk of the awaiting black vehicle.

Reminding himself solemnly that this was official business and not a trip down memory lane, Giles sat down on the black leather seats in the back of the car. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that his job did not allow for rest or resolutions, not when something or someone was always trying to convert the earth into a hellish-world-without-ice-cream-or-puppies nightmare. As much as he found purpose in his chosen career, (after all, saving the entire population of earth was a pretty noble job and all) he sometimes wondered if retirement and a pension plan would ever come into play. Giles leant his head against the window and closed his eyes.

He did not recall sleeping, but when the car lurched to a stop, Giles opened his eyes and found himself in a place he did not recognize. The young driver turned his head to the side, just enough so that Giles could see his left eye, but he did not say anything. He slightly nodded his head to the townhouse across the street and Giles took his meaning.

He was left to gather his own luggage from the trunk and carried them up to the doorstep of the house. Placing them down by his feet, he reached forward to push the doorbell, but before his fingertips could grace the button, the door opened.

"William?" Giles frowned at the middle-aged man standing in front of him. The man looked pale, worn out. William Woodson, Council Member and long time friend of Rupert Giles, was usually a study in child-like exuberance. The man would literally squeal if he found something of interest, as mundane as it might seem to the rest of the world.

"What's happened?"

Rupert's tea had barely been touched. Instead, he sat cross-legged in a high-backed armchair, stroking his chin unconsciously as he listened to William's story. The library they sat in was surrounded by thick volumes on every paranormal activity ever recorded, complete with skull bookends and overflowing candles. The study was warmed by a small fire crackling in a red-brick fireplace. At this instance however, Giles could not feel the heat emanating from the golden embers. William was divulging information with him that he should not be, but if the gatekeeper was correct in his assumption, then Sunnydale could be in great danger. Yet again.

"Are you sure they were American?" Giles asked.

William nodded as he rubbed his hands together over and over. "Positive. They had an accent. I heard them speaking before I lost consciousness." He lowered his eyes to the ground in memory. "They killed Annette. Sucked her dry."

Giles lowered his eyes in grief. He did not know Annette for very long; she was a younger member recruited not long before he left for the United States. But to be taken by a vampire… Giles shuddered at the thought of the poor woman's terror before her last breath. "What did they take?"

William's eyes widened slightly as he slowly raised his head to meet Giles. "Come with me."

Giles knew about the room; every Council Member did. Most referred to it as the vault; on account of its protective custody in the hands of the gatekeepers. There were many who yearned to see its contents, to touch and study the items in the room. But it was for that very reason that only a trusted few, those specifically picked for their extensive magic abilities, were able to watch over the rare treasures within the vault.

They entered the small windowless room, which was instantly flooded with bright fluorescent lights, and Giles took in the shelves lining three walls and boxes filling every spot on those shelves. What couldn't be fit on the shelves were piled neatly on the floor in front of the shelves. Trepidation coursed through Rupert's heart as he stepped through the steel-framed doorway.

This vault held the single largest collection of magical artifacts collected throughout the world and throughout time. They were brought here to protect man from their potency, their potential exploits. Many of the items were used for dark processions; they spoke to Giles of their evil tales.

"Here." William said softly as he stooped to take a pile of small boxes off the top of a significantly larger one. The top of the white box had at one point been taped shut, but had obviously been ripped open not long ago.

Giles knelt down beside William and peered inside the box. There was a large stone chest inside, shaped like a tomb. It gleamed white as though made from an ivory marble, but Giles knew that the rock it was shaped from could not be found in this world. The top of the chest had symbols carved deeply in it, a Runic writing of some kind. Giles ran his fingers over the etchings, seemingly hypnotized by their words.

"Do you know what it says?" William asked softly.

Giles stared at the writings, absorbed and intrigued. "I thought it was a myth." He gasped.

William was shaking his head from side to side. "Sometimes I wish it were. There was not a Member among us that could control it. Many fell prey to its whispers of power and glory. Most never recovered."

Giles sighed as he stood, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes as he made for the door. "And now it's in Sunnydale."

"What do you think they'll do with it?"

Giles grimaced. "They didn't touch anything else. They knew what they were looking for and didn't waste time finding it. A Seeing Stone. Only someone with substantial powers can yield it. I suspect they'll try to use it; for what purpose is anyone's guess."

In an instant, Giles decided to cut his trip to England drastically short. He was leaving for California, tonight. As Giles strode down the hall he stopped and grumbled a word that made William grin.

"Heathrow."

Thranduil, King of the northern realm of Mirkwood, had been unable to eat for the past two days. He refused every tray of food, every goblet of wine. He would take nothing but water. He rarely slept or spoke, instead he paced in front of his throne with a stormy glare, he paced in front of his fireplace with a brow creased in worry, or he sat lost in thought, detached from the concerned glances and murmuring of his court, as he did now.

Calenuil grasped the ornately designed backing of Thranduil's throne, arching over the arm of the chair to whisper lowly in the King's ear.

"My lord." He prompted. Thranduil stared stonily ahead, oblivious to Calenuil at his side. "Thranduil." Calenuil touched him softly on the arm, urging his King's attention.

Thranduil slowly faced him with a mixture of anger, worry and annoyance flickering across his features simultaneously. He sighed and rubbed his weary eyes. "What is it Calenuil?"

"Lord Elrond will notified within the week. A dispatch has been sent to the Order of the Istari. The scouting parties have reported no new findings. What is your bidding?"

"My bidding?" Thranduil repeated. He studied Calenuil with deadened eyes. Never before had the King been at a lost for words and just when his brother believed that Thranduil would return to his numbed state, the King rose from the throne and with piercing emerald eyes, locked Calenuil with their stare.

"My bidding is that my son will be found, at all costs if necessary. That is my bidding."

The entire court halted in their business to watch the King stride purposefully from the throne room, leaving a troubled Calenuil.


	7. The very long title

****

The Man, The Elf, The Spike and The Slayer

After their initial mishap with the locals, Legolas and Aragorn were determined to stay out of sight, yet reluctant to leave their area of arrival. They soon found out that they need not worry about being discovered, as their temporary home in the meager wooded park was actually a burial place for the dead. While Aragorn was quite accustomed to mortals' needs for a cemetery, Legolas found the idea a little disconcerting. Body upon body, all marked with a stone tablet that none stopped to read or honour. That, and there were shades of the dead everywhere.

Aragorn could not see the dead like his Elven friend could, but he knew they were all around him. He could feel their cold stares, their icy breath, he knew that most of them died in an untimely, violent death. He did not disclose it to Legolas, but he felt unbelievably uncomfortable in this land.

Legolas, too, felt restless. There was never any quiet in this place, yet rarely did he encounter animal life. It teemed with mortals and their odd fascinating possessions, as exciting as they were to him, they also gave him not a moment's rest. On the contrary; his head was constantly darting side to side at every new sight and smell and he consistently gave startled jumps at every alien noise. His nerves were becoming rattled, something he wasn't used to.

Legolas had perched himself in a tree overlooking the tombstones, while Aragorn sat on a stone table, smoking his pipe with a thoughtful look on his face. Just how the Ranger had managed to keep a grip on his pipe and all its weed mystified the Elf. Even more mystifying was the attraction. Inhaling smoke fumes just never seemed that smart of an idea to the Elves.

Aragorn's stomach growled, loud enough that Legolas could hear it from where he sat. Aragorn glanced up at Legolas, who was grinning down at him. With a sigh, Aragorn went back to his silent habit. The Elf could go days without food, but Aragorn needed subsistence and he needed it soon.

Legolas' head shot up, blue orbs fixating on some point far in the distance. He landed on the ground without a sound, already reaching for an arrow out of his quiver. Aragorn leapt for the bushes behind the table, crouching beside his friend. Focusing his senses, Aragorn could barely discern voices, two of them, approaching their area. Aragorn slowly raised his head, high enough that he could peer over the bushes where he could make out two figures. As they neared, the Ranger realized that one was a female, very petite and blond-haired. Her companion was a tall male, slim with impossibly bright blond hair and a long black coat.

He turned to see Legolas' reaction and found himself somewhat amused by the Elf's expression; his brows were furrowed and a sharp frown graced his fair features. He was about to prod Legolas to see what the problem was, but he was stopped short by the Elf answering the question before he could ask it.

"She has my arrow." He whispered.

"An' what did ol' Watcher have to say?"

Buffy shrugged, fingering the brown feathers of her arrow. "Oh, you know. Vampires, blah blah blah. Neat looking stone stolen, blah blah blah. Possible end of the world,"

"Blah blah blah." Spike finished for her.

She smiled, acknowledging the sheer ridiculous tone of her voice. Perhaps all her years of fighting, slaying and even dying was starting to desensitize her. "Anyway, his point was that he's coming back."

Spike snorted. "Short trip." He looked down at the diminutive woman at his side, who was still playing with the arrow. "A little attached to that thing, aren't you?"

Buffy looked surprised at his statement. "I don't know," she stammered. "It has…history."

"It has dried demon guts on it luv." He reached for the door on the side of the gothic building that Spike called home. The dimly lit crypt was sparsely populated with his few possessions – a ratty armchair, 1970's JVC, tomb – disgusting little bits to the naked eye, but to Spike they spelt love and comfort. Maybe not so much the love bit. "So what's ugly guts got to do wit' some stone in England."

"Giles didn't elaborate. He only said to keep ugly out of sight. Not that that's a problem."

As Spike stepped onto the landing and looked around his pad, his eyes widened. "That might not be true."

Buffy came up beside him and studied his face. She peered around Spike's form and saw nothing out of the ordinary; garbage here, some bones there, wine bottle laying at her feet. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"Ugly guts is gone."

Aragorn watched the two enter the stone building with some suspicion. There was something very unsettling about them. He was about to mull over his thoughts some more when Legolas disrupted him. 

The Elf was rising to his feet and Aragorn knew instantly that he meant to go after the humans. Aragorn grasped his forearm, urging the Elf silently with his best imposing stare to sit back down. Legolas didn't even look in Aragorn's direction, but continued to make for the gap in the bushes. Aragorn gave a vicious tug with both hands, hauling his friend down.

"Legolas, we cannot go out there!" He whispered through gritted teeth.

"She has my arrow. They know about us." Legolas reasoned.

Aragorn shook his head. "They know about your arrow, that is all they know about. I, for one, should like to keep it that way."

Legolas sighed and plopped himself on the ground beside his friend. His hands clasped each other loosely around his knees, but the spark of action had not left his face, not yet. "We have not discovered how to return to Mirkwood, Aragorn. We need help. The longer we stay hidden, the longer we stay here."

Aragorn rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. How long had it been since he had a proper night's sleep? The Elf had a point. Smugly, Aragorn dropped his hands to his side in defeat. He looked back at Legolas and shook his head. Legolas had a mischievous smile on his face.

"You would have gone anyway, wouldn't you have?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas tried, very unsuccessfully, to wipe the grin off his face. He stood, offering a hand to his comrade. Aragorn accepted it graciously, grabbing Legolas' elbow as he rose to his feet. With his other hand, he placed it on the back of Legolas' neck and drew him in close.

"If you get me killed, Prince, my spirit will pester you for the rest of your immortal years."

Bits of paper and boxes and wine bottles were flying within the crypt. Buffy stood by the stairs with her hands on her hips and a very stern look on her face. "Spike, how the hell do you lose a demon? A dead demon at that."

Spike poked his head up from the pile of debris he just created. "I didn't lose it pet. Someone must have stolen it."

Buffy gave her head a slight shake, as if jumbling his words around in her head. "Stolen it? Why would someone steal a dead demon?"

Spike threw his hands in the air. "Who the hell steals a stupid stone? I DON'T KNOW."

Buffy rolled her eyes, sensing very correctly that their current argument was leading them nowhere. "Wait. Just stop. Lets think about this."

Spike threw down a box and stumbled through his new mess to get to where the Slayer had sat down. Standing in front of her, he stared at her slim fingers that she counted off as she went through their timeline. "So, big storm in the middle of the cemetery, ugly falls out of nowhere with a fancy arrow in him, Giles takes off to London where a Seeing Stone's been stolen and taken back here." She stared down at her hands in confusion. "What are we missing?"

Spike shrugged. "How long ago was the stone stolen?"

Buffy shook her head. "I don't know. Giles didn't say."

Spike slumped down beside her, running his hands through his hair. "Maybe the stone brought the demon here."

Just as Buffy was beginning to absorb Spike's suggestion, she became aware of a sound that she immediately identified as the door opening. Diving and then somersaulting herself across the floor, she grabbed a crossbow laying on the floor and came up armed, facing her attackers. 

The two men standing in front of her were also armed. A man with dark wavy hair had his very long sword pointed at Spike, who was still sitting on the floor, completely taken by surprise. But just as Buffy was pointing an arrow at her assailant, the blond-haired man standing in front of her had her directly in his sight line of a longbow, notched with an arrow. A very impressive looking arrow. 

Buffy cocked her head to the side. "Robin Hood?"


	8. First Encounters

__

Ah yes, the fun game of 'Confuse the Elf' is actually quite popular around here.

Ack!…Must…write…more…dig * gasp * deeper…limited supply of brain cells…sputter…*expires*. Ugh. Sorry! I tried.

****

First Encounters

"So you're the guy who's been jumping on the hoods of speeding cars." Buffy's statement brought forth one of the most baffled exchanges she'd ever been witness to. The young blonde in front of her squinted and frowned, then turned to his companion who frowned even deeper. The two both turned back to her, eyeing the Slayer with a renewed suspicion.

No party willing to move or comment on the current situation, all four instead held their ground in an awkwardly quiet stand-off.

Buffy, not exactly renowned for her patience, rolled her eyes, still keeping her crossbow firmly trained on the archer. He still had his bow drawn at full capacity; Buffy was somewhat surprised that his arms weren't shaking. "Do you speak?"

Again, the new arrivals looked to each other and Buffy began to get the feeling that maybe they didn't; maybe they were telepathically mutated…medieval guys. But the dark-haired man shattered her previous conceptions when he answered her.

"Yes we speak." His voice was low, deep, almost musically soothing. It was calm and assured, so much so that it was unnerving considering their predicament.

Buffy shrugged. "Well, that's a first." She meant to say it as a side-note, just for her ears, but being as there was no other sound, her sarcastic comment was heard by all.

Spike, who had by now scrambled to his feet, was completely over his initial shock of these two rude, yet dashing intruders, and was starting to get a little pissed. "Yeah, well, here's another first. First, who the hell are you, and second, there's the door." He pointed back up the stairs but neither stranger took the bait.

The wheels in Buffy's head were turning at an alarming rate. The demon, the arrow, the mini-tornado – "You're here for the demon." She blurted.

This created quite a stir in the men. The brown-haired man's eyebrows shot up in surprise; obviously he hadn't been expecting that. "Demon?" He repeated.

"Yrch." It was the first time the blonde had talked, in a voice so softly spoken, she was certain she didn't hear him right. As he turned to his partner, she also realized his ears were pointed, kind of like –

"'is name's Yurk?" Spike apparently had also heard the guy speak.

"Orc. Not a demon. They are known as the Orc where we come from." Buffy had decided to nickname the one who had just spoken as 'Scruffy'. Not that he wasn't attractive or anything, he just looked a little…mangy next to his impeccable friend.

"So where's that?" She asked.

The two men shared quick glances at each other and Buffy knew from the looks of it that she wasn't going to get a straight answer on that one. "Nevermind. The point is, you guys are the ones breaking and entering. So unless we all haven't got anything better to do than stand here all day aiming at each other, I'd like to get some answers."

"Yeah." Spike nodded his head vigorously. "Like where'd you get the sword mate?"

Buffy's attempt for a smooth interrogation had been gracefully shot down by Spike's moronic remark, but to his credit the intruders didn't seem to notice.

Scruffy was the first to accede. With one blink of his eyes signifying a quick rethinking of his situation, he sheathed his sword, but kept one hand casually gripped to the hilt. His blonde friend gave him an incredulous look, but with a defeated sigh he too lowered the bow.

In keeping with the new uneasy truce, Buffy lowered her crossbow, but dared not place it down. "Do you at least have names?"

"I am Strider." Scruffy placed his hand on his chest and gave a slight nod of his head. His voice had an accent, a flavoring of some kind she couldn't quite pinpoint. "This is my friend, Legolas." He gestured to the pointy-eared blonde next to him.

Buffy stared at him for a moment, taking in his long golden hair – she hated it when men could grow their hair longer than her – his pale skin and impossibly blue eyes. And the pointed ears. She was tempted to ask if they were natural or cosmetic, but thought it might not be proper etiquette.

"What are you?" Spike, ever the conscious etiquette vampire, was looking Legolas up and down with a confused stare.

Legolas was staring right back at him, with a slightly offended air to his demeanor.

"He's an Elf." Strider said it so nonchalantly, as though it was quite natural for one to have an Elf in his or her living room.

It was Buffy's turn to look startled. "You don't look like an Elf."

Legolas faced the young woman in front of him. "What do your Elves look like?" His voice was soft and comforting, with a slightly more refined accent than Strider's. 

Buffy was straining to remember what the dentist elf looked like in 'Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer'. "Oh, you know. Shorter. Not so armed. Sort of craftsmen I guess."

Spike was staring at her. "That and they don't exist."

Another awkward hush fell on the crypt.

Legolas' voice dropped a decibel, until it was little more than a mumble. "I exist."

After some incredibly difficult introductions, (Strider could barely wrap his lips around Buffy's name – 'Bophy', 'Buppy' and so on) the four finally established that none among them was as evil as first thought. The three sat where they could find support and as Strider relayed his memory of how they came to be in Sunnydale, Legolas stood quietly to the side with a firm grip on his bow. Buffy listened attentively, as did Spike, but the more the story grew so did their concern. Strider brought his tale to a close and sat silently with his hands in his lap. Buffy glanced at Spike. "An interdimensional portal of some kind?" To which Spike nodded.

She looked up at the Elf who faced the door and seemed to concentrating all his energy on being their guard dog. So this was the hunter. "You said that you attacked the Orcs and then the portal opened up." Strider nodded. "And all the Orcs got sucked in. But we only found one Orc."

Strider frowned. "When Legolas and I arrived, we were not in the same place as one another. Perhaps this portal scatters all those that fall into it."

"And it opened more than once." Buffy pointed out. "Can we be expecting some more of your friends then?"

Strider looked at Legolas who turned his head slightly, giving him a brief but sad glance. "I do not believe so." The human answered.

"But you're sure that more than one Orc came through?"

"I am certain of it."

Spike was studying Buffy. "What are you thinking?"

Buffy slapped her knees before taking to her feet. "I'm thinking we need to patrol for some Orcs."

If ever there was a time that vampires felt concern, it was now. The gangs of bloodsuckers that dwelled beneath Sunnydale had been in a state of anxiety ever since the ancient chest had been brought back from England. The once motley crew of roving vampires were now a full fledged force to be reckoned with, thanks to the leadership of The First.

Unfortunately, The First seemed to be a tad bit preoccupied lately.

Billy was 16 when he first opened his eyes to the beauty that was being undead. For the most part, he looked like a gangly teenager with unkempt hair and badly scuffed boots. But whenever he felt the hunger, which was often, his true inner demon broke through. Right now however, Billy looked like a scared teenager as he watched The First from a distance.

"How's he been?"

Billy didn't bother turning around; he could recognize the gruff voice easily for that of Tanus. Tanus was a centuries old vampire. He looked like an aged biker, but Billy knew the surprising strength that lay within the vampire.

"He hasn't moved. Been staring at that stupid thing all day. What's if for anyway?"

Tanus grunted. "Show's him stuff. Dark magic stuff that you can't find on earth."

"This affects us how?" Billy commented cynically. Tanus swiped him across the back of the head. 

"Stupid kid." The old vampire grumbled.

There was a commotion coming down the tunnel. Both turned to see two vampires, with bleeding scratches and gashes on their faces and necks, each holding the arm of a growling and yelping demon.

"What the hell is that?" Billy asked.

Tanus was staring at the demon with a mixture of disgust and wonderment. He thought it was a myth.

The two vampires dragged the howling thing into the deep cavern where The First sat, staring into his black stone. Even with the ruckus that was going on a few feet from him, The First remained oblivious. It was only when one vampire shouted to his master that The First swiveled around slowly, glaring deadly at the vampire disrupting his reverie. But his gaze fell to the squirming beast between them who was hissing with wild eyes. The First smiled. "Orc."

The creature stopped struggling but continued its uncontrolled hissing.

The First picked up the round orb with one clawed hand and walked towards the Orc who was shrinking away from him. "Do you know what this is?"

The Orc yelped and focused his eyes downward. "Palantir." He gasped.

The First's smile grew in terrifying proportions. "What is inside the Palantir?"

The Orc was positively cowering before him. "The Great Eye."

"Yes." The First bent down until he was inches from the creature's face. "Now tell me something." He stroked the Orc's face with one finger. "How does one _become_ the Great Eye?"

For some unfathomable reason, this angered the Orc beyond all sense. He lunged suddenly, snapping The First's finger in his jaws.

With a roar that shook the stone walls until dust fell in clumps, The First backed up, holding his broken and bleeding finger. The vampires watching the spectacle were too stunned to move. The First quit roaring and immediately seized the Orc by the neck, lifting him from the floor with immeasurable strength. The Orc gurgled for air in The First's clenched fist, kicking reflexively as it suffocated. The First brought the Orc down to face level, and pulling back his lips revealed the full glory of his fangs.

All the vampires felt a sort of ecstasy watching their master feed. They stood spellbound, and one by one felt the familiar transformation in their faces. Their veins thrust out visibly as they salivated and groaned with the bloodlust.

In minutes, The First had sucked his victim dry. He threw down the limp body, wiping his mouth with satisfaction. The First suddenly became aware of his blood beating erratically in his veins. His head felt light, almost euphorically so. He slumped in his chair with a giddy grin on his face.

The vampires looked questioningly to each other. "Master?" One ventured.

The First was still grinning with a drugged-like composure. "That was good." 


	9. The Graveyard Hustle

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Thousand apologies for not having this up sooner. Got caught up doing essays. At the last minute of course. Anyhoo, here it is.

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The Graveyard Hustle

There was no moonlight, only the phantom flickering of stars to light their way. The cemetery was bathed in blackness, with eerie shards of bone-white reflecting off the corners of tombstones. The lack of light certainly would have proved difficult for an average person, but the combination of Elf, vampire, Ranger and Slayer found the dark to be a challenge rather than a nuisance.

"What's the plan?" Spike's baritone voice broke the hushed calm of the cemetery.

Buffy held Mr. Pointy slackly in her right hand, but her eyes were wide and alert. "Split up. We'll form a perimeter. If anyone finds anything, shout."

As Buffy and Spike made for two different sets of bushes, Aragorn approached Legolas from behind. The Elf was concentrating; on what, the Ranger could not tell. "What do you see?"

Legolas continued his focused stare. "It is not what I see. It is what I smell." He said quietly. 

Aragorn slowly began to unsheathe his sword, attempting to keep the metal from ringing. "Orc?" He whispered.

Legolas gave one nod of his head.

"How near?"

The Elf's eyes narrowed. "Close. They are all around us."

Spike had taken to the northwest corner of the graveyard, where the neglected shrubs ran high and unruly. It was only when he came to his place of cover that he realized he alone was unarmed. Muttering a swear under his breath, he paused and briefly entertained the thought of returning to his crypt and snagging himself some sort of pointy object. He looked back and saw the man with his sword out and ready, and the Elf with his bow drawn and an arrow notched. 'Bah!' He thought. He could take his enemies with his bare hands. He was about to creep under the bushes when preternatural instincts bade him not to. He glanced back at the two, who looked ready for imminent battle, but when he looked around with his heightened eyesight, he found no trace of any enemy. Despite this, he felt the familiar tingling throughout his body that forewarned of danger.

He snorted, and immediately wrinkled his nose. What was that? The most foul and decayed stench filled his nostrils. He searched for the source of it, and pin-pointed the offending odour to his original hiding spot. Pushing the bushes apart with his hands, it didn't take long for the vampire to locate the source.

"Oh there you are." Spike whispered. He had found Ugly Guts; how the orc managed to get out there was a different matter though. Spike crouched beside the body and poked it for good measure. Judging by the lack of reflex and decomposing smell, Spike was fairly certain the beast was still as dead as it was when they first dragged it back to the crypt.

"Hey Buffy!" Spike announced to the world. "I think I found our-" It was all he managed to get out before something popped out of the bushes and drove right into him, knocking him flat on his back. Landing with a grunt, the surprised vampire lay for a moment, gathering his wits. But looking up at his attacker, Spike immediately started fighting to get to his feet. 

A screeching orc with amber eyes was sitting on his chest, pinning him down with his armored weight. Spike struggled to free his arms that were trapped underneath the creature's knees, but found them immobilized. The orc raised a curved and wicked looking knife, grinning wildly as he brought it up with both hands above its head, readying for the death blow.

Spike drew his knees up, ramming them into the orc's back, effectively knocking it off balance. Using the orc's momentum for his own benefit, Spike rolled in the same direction the orc was falling to, smoothly jumping to his feet while the orc struggled to its knees. Not missing his golden opportunity, Spike nailed the creature with a vicious kick to its stomach, dropping the orc who yelped in pain.

Spike was about to strike again when the orc glared up at him and howled. Spike paused with revulsion. "Ugly little son of a bitch, aren't you?"

The thought that perhaps she should help Spike briefly fluttered through Buffy's mind, but it left just as soon as it arrived. Her attuned hearing honed in on the slight rustling from the bushes behind her, but instead of blindly pouncing, the Slayer showed an uncharacteristic amount of patience and simply waited for her would-be attacker.

She would not be disappointed in her wait, for within moments the bush exploded, spewing a hail of twigs and leaves as a large orc popped out. The orc was armed with one of the most crude and garish daggers she'd ever seen and while the dagger was coming down to take her head right off her shoulders, she became fixated on the notched serrated edges; this thing had seen years of battle. At the last possible moment, the Slayer ducked low into a crouch, swiping out her right leg and tripping the orc backwards. Countering with another chop to its exposed chest, Buffy then used her arms to flip herself to her feet.

The orc was on its feet quickly, swinging its blade in wild, cumbersome arcs, all of which Buffy calmly avoided. The orc swung with too much force; the blade came down in a heavy fall and Buffy reacted instantly. A powerful roundhouse to the orc's midsection brought forth a pained grunt, but she didn't stop her assault there. With as much pressure as she could exert, the tiny blonde rammed her elbow into the orc's nose and even she slightly grimaced as she heard the nasal cavity crunch. The beast was blinded with pain, drawing a hand up to staunch the flow of dark blood as it staggered back.

Buffy jumped, kicking out and catching the orc on the chin. Its head flung back, stunned. Spinning to gain momentum, Buffy finished off her foe by thrusting her thick stake into its heart. The orc gave one failing gasp before falling heavily onto its back.

Satisfied, Buffy fetched her stake from the very dead orc's body. The sounds of frenzied battle flooded the cemetery. Turning, she could see the human Strider parrying sword to sword with an orc; it did not take a genius to see who the better swordsman was. The orc was on the defensive, blocking each forceful blow futilely. 

An orc was sneaking up on the warrior's back, but before she could shout a warning, an arrow hit is spinal cord and pierced through to puncture the heart. The Elf had been nonchalantly picking off orcs, turning his body to make slight readjustments for each target, until there was just Strider and his opponent left.

He must have known this, for it seemed that he decided rather casually that this fight was becoming boring and thus ended it with a spin and a thrust through the orc's chest. The three were surveying each other, silently gauging any battle scars or wounds, although there were none to be found. Strider's forehead had tiny beads of sweat flecked across it, Buffy was pushing her tousled hair out of her eyes and Legolas looked like he had done nothing more than cross the street.

All their attention was diverted to the vampire stumbling out of the bushes, shaking his head in a dog-like fashion to rid himself of the clinging leaves. He finally noticed them staring.

"What?"

"Yarrgh!" The four other occupants inside the Summers' living room stopped and stared at the teenager who had just thrown her math textbook clear across the coffee table. Dawn slumped on the couch with her arms folded stubbornly over her chest.

Willow approached the fuming girl cautiously and sat on the edge of the couch while smiling warmly. "Dawn? Would you like to talk about it?"

"It's so stupid! Do I really need this? Am I seriously going to use math for anything in my life?!" Dawn was throwing her arms around madly as she exasperated.

"Well, have you thought about what you're going to do for the rest of your life?" Asked Tara.

Dawn lost her angered train of thought to stare up at Tara with blinking eyes. "No. But I'm sure it won't include math."

"But you need to know how to give customers the right change." Anya piped up.

"Well I'm not going to be a cashier for the rest of my life." Dawn reasoned. Anya looked crestfallen.

Willow was scanning Dawn's sheet of paper that held her homework scribblings. "Oh, no, see here Dawn? It's all in the exponential factor." Willow was pointing to the last problem that had been scrawled out, erased, re-written and finally doodled out.

Dawn was grasping with all her limited mathematical knowledge at what Willow was getting at. Willow was beaming, looking like she had just solved the greatest math problem ever. Dawn suddenly felt a pang of guilt. "Oh! The _exponential _factor." She smacked herself on the forehead. "Duh."

Anya cocked her head to the side with furrowed eyebrows. "I don't get it."

Xander placed a hand on her shoulder, leading her away from the living room and into the kitchen. "Yeah, no one does."

The front door was flung open abruptly and Buffy and Spike strode in followed by two very odd looking men.

"Buffy?" Willow prompted as she got to her feet, glancing from Buffy to the two new men and back to Buffy.

"Hey Will." She said casually. She looked at her younger sister who was staring at the men with glazed eyes and a slack jaw. "Dawn, did you finish your homework?"

The sound of someone clearing his throat loudly turned Buffy's scrutiny off Dawn and onto Xander and Anya. "And who are our guests?" Asked Xander.

Remembering her manners, Buffy stammered for a moment before gesturing to the men behind her. "This is, ah, Strider," the human bowed his head. "And this is Legolas."

"An Elf."

All eyes focused on Anya who was studying Legolas with wide eyes. "Is it real?" She asked.

Legolas was eyeing the young woman with blatant suspicion. "Yes, _it _is real."

Anya smiled, seemingly in relief. "But this is impossible! It can't be done!"

Now all eyes turned into confused glances between themselves. "I don't get it, what was done?" Xander was looking at his fiancée with a muddled frown.

"A portal!" She exclaimed. "A portal between parallel worlds." She was walking towards the Elf, hypnotized. "We had heard about your kind. In books; we all thought they were myths. The magic of the Elves."

"Magic?" Tara instantly perked up a notch.

Anya was inches from Legolas' face. "And you're real. So that means the rest of it is real. All of it." She was reaching up to graze his ear tips with her fingers while Legolas was drawing his head away slowly.

"Okay, that's enough of that crazy talk!" Xander pulled Anya away, although her eyes were still glued to the Elf.

"Right." Buffy slapped her palms against her jeans. "Welcome to the Summers' house, now complete with reformed vengeance demons." For her comment, she received two very puzzled looks. "Have you guys eaten anything since you arrived?" Aragorn shook his head and glanced at his friend who, he was positive, had just stifled a yawn.

"We've got some macaroni and cheese and hot dogs." Tara suggested.

Spike grimaced and Buffy attempted to look enthusiastic. "Yum. Dinner of champions. Take a seat." She gestured to the couch and armchairs. Dawn was still gazing doe-eyed at Legolas, but for his part he seemed not to notice as he selected one of the armchairs. Sliding his bow and quiver off his back, the Elf nestled comfortably into the oversized chair.

Aragorn undid his belt that his sword was slung on and sunk down into the couch beside the younger Summers.

"Nice sword." Dawn commented softly.

Aragorn regarded the young girl warmly. She had a youthful energy to her and a face still graced by innocence.

"Where are you guys from?" She asked.

Aragorn was not entirely sure how to answer the posed question. How could he relate where they were from if he didn't know where they were now? "I am from Rivendell, he is from Mirkwood." He answered truthfully. He motioned to the Elf who was sitting across from them with both hands resting on the arms of the chair and staring wide-eyed at them.

Dawn nodded and smiled. "That's nowhere near here, is it?"

Aragorn laughed slightly and shook his head. "No, I do not suppose it is."

Buffy and Xander re-entered the room carrying bowls of rich smelling…something. As Aragorn caught its scent his stomach growled painfully. She handed him a steaming dish of creamy orange curves, dotted with pink bits of, what he guessed, was meat. At the moment, he couldn't care if he was eating troll flesh – it was still nourishment. He accepted the fork from her and began shoveling the food in his mouth.

Buffy turned around and stopped. "What's he doing?" She asked.

Legolas was entranced, staring straight ahead without blinking. Aragorn swallowed a mouthful before answering. "He is sleeping."

"But his eyes are open." Dawn observed.

Aragorn shrugged. "All Elves sleep with their eyes open."

Buffy was peering down at the Elf with interest. "Can he see us?" She asked as Xander waved a hand in front of his face.

"A part of him can. The other part is deep in Elven dreams."

Every shred of attention was focused intently on Legolas as though he was a new form of television. "Fascinating." Anya breathlessly stated. Xander could feel his jealousy begin to rise. 'I mean the guy has pointy ears! Hello, Peter Pan! Creepy!' He thought.

"What do Elves dream of?" Dawn asked.

It was an intriguing question, one that Aragorn had never thought to ask Legolas, or even his own brothers for that matter. "I know not. Perhaps he dreams of home."


	10. Waking Up

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Note to Reviewers:

- I'm starting to get the feeling that some people want this to be a Legolas / Buffy story. Hmm. Can't say it hasn't crossed my mind. 

- Why don't you like sleeping?

- * Enjoy the Silence * yes, I did have them marry, much to the anger of some Tolkien fans because Elves are supposed to mate for life. But I thought, hey, if I've already killed off his mother, why not? Oh, that sounded shallow. But seriously, I wanted it to make his character have a little more depth than the usual 'he's-so-perfect-and-good-looking-I-wish-I-were-a-Mary-Sue' fic. I needed some serious angst.

Thanks for reading!

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Waking Up

He thought he could hear the light rain drizzling outside his window, that familiar sound that lulled him to sleep as an Elfling. Has it been so long? But the warmth on his face informed him that it could not be raining; the day was starting and drawing him from his comforted rest. As his hearing fixated itself entirely from the sounds of a distant forest and onto the present, it was not the light footprints of raindrops he was hearing; it was some sort of brew dripping from a kettle. Tea?

His eyes blinked, pulling him completely from his dreams and back into…wherever they had established they were. Aragorn was across from him, stretched out on the couch and sleeping peacefully. Someone had covered him with a blanket. As Legolas reached up to push the hair from his shoulder he realized that he, too, had been considerately given a blanket. Not that he needed one. But a kind gesture was a kind gesture, no matter the place or circumstances.

A delicious aroma filled the air, one that Legolas had never encountered before. That could not be tea. Whatever it was, the wafting scent drew him from his chair and like a fly attracted to the light, he followed his nose dutifully until it led him to the kitchen. There he found Buffy, the boy named Sander and the woman who was smiling at him, the same woman who seemed to know of his kind. He was quite uneasy around her.

They did not look entirely awake, except the woman Anya, for Sander was wiping his obviously tired eyes and Buffy was leaning on the counter with a steaming cup in her hands.

"Coffee?" She asked wearily. He cocked his head to the side and gave her his usual confused look. She smiled. "It's a warm drink many of us have around here to help us wake up in the morning."

Legolas thought about that for a moment, knowing fully well that he needed no help to wake up. But it smelled very enticing.

"Would you like to try some?" 

Legolas hesitated before answering. "I suppose so." He said nonchalantly.

Buffy smiled at him again and went over to a see-through kettle that held a dark brown liquid. She poured it into a mug, then also poured what he surmised was cream and two cubes of white powder. She stirred it slowly with a spoon, then handed it to him. He sniffed it experimentally, then cautiously sipped the hot beverage. As it trickled down his throat and warmed his stomach he realized something – he liked this. He liked this a lot.

"Hey Mikey, I think he likes it!" Exclaimed Xander. Buffy gave a half-hearted chuckle, but both Anya and Legolas gave him quizzical glances. While Anya was more than used to Xander's odd wit, (as he was used to her blunt connotations) Legolas had yet to learn this world's euphemisms and dry sarcasm. 

"Where are the others?" Legolas questioned, still concentrating on his vastly-disappearing java. 

"Spike's hiding out, Willow and Tara went home for the evening and Dawn is sleeping in as usual." Buffy reported.

"No I'm not!" Dawn came bounding down the stairs, still in her pajamas, but with brushed and flowing hair, and carefully applied mascara and lip gloss. "I'm here!" She announced.

"Wow." Buffy pursed her lips. "That's a first."

Dawn was grinning up at Legolas.

To say the thought hadn't occurred to the Elf that this young maiden fancied him would not be fair. The thought hadn't occurred _yet_, is all. But he smiled at her warmly.

Dawn thought she would faint or throw up or even pee her pants, but thankfully she refrained from all of the above and continued to grin like a moron. Buffy was rolling her eyes gratuitously. 'I hope I never did that as a teenager.' She thought.

Xander did not like what was transpiring. First his fiancée had taken a shining to this arrow-shooting hot-shot just because the guy has pointy-ears, and now sweet little innocent Dawn looked like a puppy in love with a great big…meatball. He could take that guy any day. Not anytime soon, of course. But any _other_ day he felt like it, he just might.

"Why is Spike hiding?" Legolas asked.

Buffy shrugged. "Vampires can't stand the light."

Legolas dropped the now-empty mug and it shattered to the floor, jolting the sleeping Aragorn into a full alert stance. Even Buffy jumped, and as she looked from everyone's equally surprised face and back to the Elf, her suspicion began to grow. He was staring at her with shockingly wide blue eyes, completely ignoring the shards of ceramic dotting the kitchen floor. Aragorn had now joined them in the kitchen, looking from face to face and finally resting on Legolas.

"Vampire?" Legolas asked quietly.

Buffy knew immediately that she had said something very wrong to him. "Yeah." She answered slowly. "Spike is a vampire. But he can't drink human blood or anything."

"But vampires are…evil." 

Xander had a smug look of satisfaction on his face as he stared at Buffy to see what her reaction would be. She looked momentarily panicked, one part full of regret for saying anything in the first part, one part wondering if she should be reaching for a weapon. "Yeah, but, he's not…anymore. He has a chip and that makes it-"

"A what?" Now it was Aragorn's turn to question the Slayer. 

Oh, this was not going to be fun to explain. Buffy held her hands up in frustration. "Look, I don't know what the equivalent is in your world, but here vampires are bloodsuckers and I have to kill them. My friends help me out with that. Spike was a very bad vampire but then some, ah, men, lead by a, um, woman, they decided to make vampires not so bad anymore by placing something in their heads that would prevent them from ever hurting anyone again. So far it's only worked with him, but hey, you never know."

The incredulous looks were not only coming from Strider and Legolas, but also from everyone else in the kitchen. Aragorn was scratching his rudely-wakened head. "Something in their heads?"

"You kill them?" Asked Legolas.

Buffy looked quite surprised. He was sizing her up, not necessarily in an unbelieving gesture, but more of a wary one. "Yeah." She said softly.

"She's the Slayer." Announced Xander with all the seriousness he could muster.

"Slayer." Aragorn repeated, and Xander nodded. Aragorn was looking at the young, petite woman in front of him. He had seen her battling out of the corner of his eye, but from their first encounter with her he could already see the strength bubbling under the surface. This small creature possessed deceptive abilities; it was no wonder then that she could handle an orc if she was already well-trained against the undead.

She was still leaning against the corner of the kitchen island, but now she had one hand resting on her hip. Spike was not a subject that she liked to discuss. She also found it difficult to meet the piercing blue eyes of the Elf still standing stoically in front of her. "So. You have vampires too then, huh?"

Aragorn glanced at Legolas who did not look like he was about to say anything soon. "They are very rare. One only hears of them in myths and –"

"And in Mirkwood." Legolas finished for him. The mere mention flooded his mind with memories he had tried so forcefully to suppress. 

Buffy could feel her face growing hot as all eyes were on her. Crap. First Xander and now this guy; could the world get off her back for one minute?!? "I didn't mean anything-"

At what couldn't have been a more blessed moment, the phone rang with such resonance that Legolas and Strider both jumped. Buffy rushed over to answer it, leaving the others to uncomfortably to get past the current subject. 

It was then that Legolas was struck by the notion that he had dropped the mug. He kneeled to the floor, picking up thick shards and placing them in his cupped hands. Dawn suddenly jolted awake and ran to grab the broom, begging the Elf not to touch anything lest he should cut himself. As she jogged to the broom closet, she couldn't help but think that might not be such a bad idea, not the thought of him getting injured, but more the thought of her bandaging him up and he being eternally grateful to her for her bravery and lack of queasiness. She giggled softly to herself.

Aragorn, meanwhile, was utterly fascinated that Buffy was speaking to…no-one. She was holding something close to her face and talking into it, twirling a thick cord around her fingers while she muttered 'mm-hmm, yeah, okay' and such. He could not help but find her demure attitude while doing something so incomprehensible to be unbelievably amusing.

Buffy hung up the phone and came face to face with Strider. The human looked to be on the verge of bursting out into laughter. "What?" He just shook his head, but smiled from ear to ear. Suddenly it hit her. "Oh that? No, that's a phone. That's how we communicate with people far away; we talk into that," she found herself picturing what it must be like for someone completely alien to see her talking on the phone. "You're right." She consented. "It is ridiculous."

"Who was it?" Anya asked.

"It was Giles." 

Legolas had finished helping Dawn gather all the pieces of broken coffee cup into a dustpan. He now stood, but the look on his face still remained grim. Buffy couldn't help but think that any trust developed between herself and the strangers may have been taken down a notch. But she began to think. "Giles needs to see these two. Maybe they're the missing link."

"Okay. We're just going to drive them over and drop them off?" Xander was waving his arms around in flustered circles.

"Why not?" Asked Dawn.

Xander gestured to the two with repeated thrusts. "Hello! Look at them! They look like they're auditioning for Willow and last time I checked, that movie was already made."

It was plain to everyone in the room that only Legolas and Strider had absolutely no clue what Xander was getting at. Buffy shrugged. "If you have some brilliant disguise Xander, I'm all for it."

Xander smiled, which everyone, even the strangers, knew could only be a bad sign. "I'll be right back."

"So…what are we trying to say here? Skater punk meets college prep?" Anya had one arm folded across her stomach as she gestured to the Elf and the human standing in the living room.

"College prep maybe, but I was thinking more hip-hop Elf." Suggested Dawn

Legolas was baffled, uncomfortable in his new clothing and more than embarrassed. His entire outfit had been taken away and replaced with shoes that were complicatedly laced, some form of pants that he knew he could not run efficiently in, a much too large shirt with a built-in hood, but most humiliating of all was the thing they made him put on his head. At the time it had caused much argument amongst them.

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"Do you really think he needs a toque in the middle of July in Sunnydale?" Buffy had asked cynically.

"It goes with the outfit. Besides, those ears would give him away." Xander had reasoned.

The tight cap was itching the tips of his ears. He refused to let them take his wrist guards though, and after much wrangling had won out, but mostly because the young girl Dawn had agreed it only made sense.

__

"It's a fashion statement." She piped up.

Aragorn did not feel as uncomfortable; they at least tried to stick with his characteristic black. They had given him black polished shoes, snug-fitting black jeans and a black sweater. He, unlike Legolas, did not have to wear a hat. Looking at his friend, Aragorn could not help but laugh at the look of pure misery on the Elf's face. He stood awkwardly in his baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirt.

Dawn was scheming how she could somehow sneak him into high school for the day.

Xander was scratching his chin. "They need new names."

"They have names, Xander." Anya pointed out impatiently.

"Not realistic ones. No." He approached to two strangers, trying to keep the mischievous smile from his mouth. "You shall now be called…Jay and Bob."

Buffy slapped her forehead. 


	11. At the Watcher's Abode

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Okay, wasn't sure if anyone would get the Jay and Silent Bob reference. Apparently I was wrong! Clerks Rules! (Shameless plug)

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At The Watcher's Abode

Rupert Giles was exhausted, irritable and in serious need of a bath. After flying to London and immediately flying back, the Watcher looked as though he just survived an earthquake only to walk into a tornado. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair mussed, even his eyeglasses weren't sitting on his nose entirely right. But for as much as he wanted nothing more than to drop on his bed and sleep for a week, Giles knew he could not afford such a luxury.

Buffy listened to his urgent and probably incoherently mumbled telephone call and agreed to meet him at his home in an hour. After hanging up the phone, he removed his glasses and rubbed his tired baggy eyes with one hand, supporting his aching back with the other. He looked around his living room, seemingly disoriented for a moment as he considered his next course of action. Unfortunately his next course of action retained nothing more than waiting for an hour for his protégé to make her appearance. 

He tapped his fingers on the counter, wondering if perhaps he should try to sneak in a shower and a nap. He quickly shook the idea of a nap out of his mind, but after experimentally sniffing his underarm and being reviled by his own odour, Giles lumbered up the stairs to his bathroom.

After mindlessly showering and ditching the notion of shaving (too much effort), he returned to the kitchen and glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes to go. Tea might be nice. Giles plugged in his kettle and readied his mug with a teabag of Earl Grey, then retired to the couch, waiting for the water to boil. He closed his eyes and sighed.

And woke up abruptly to the sound of a continuous doorbell and doorknocker and persistent wailing of a kettle which had been boiling water for the last nineteen minutes. Shaking his head clear of the last remnants of clinging sleep, he slowly came to his feet and hurried to the kitchen to unplug the kettle. Rushing to the door and swinging it open with annoyance, he was at first blinded by the overwhelming light of the sun. The doorbell was still ringing. Giles slapped Xander's hand away from the button.

"Yes, thank you Alexander."

It was only in very rare and highly irked cases that Giles used Xander's real name. Giles turned away from the Scooby gang rather curtly and stumbled towards his living room while rubbing his temples. Buffy shared dubious glances with her cohorts, very surprised that he hadn't even batted an eyelash when he saw her two companions.

"Giles, are you feeling alright?"

He half turned his body towards her but spoke with his eyes closed. "Oh yes. Besides a slight case of jet lag, insomnia and malnutrition I feel fine. How are you?" He opened his eyes with a sarcastic smile. "Who are they?" He suddenly turned serious again.

"I think 'they' go along with your stone."

"It's a Palantir, Buffy."

Aragorn and Legolas shared a startled glance with each other. "A Palantir? One of the Seeing Stones?" Aragorn questioned.

Giles' forehead creased as he studied the two men. "Yes." He started slowly. "Do you know of them?"

"Only that several are missing. How is it that they came to be in this land?"

Giles searched his memory on how the Palantir was discovered, but came up with only a sketchy version of the chain of events. "It was discovered decades ago on an archeological dig, entombed in an ancient chest with markings written in an indistinguishable language. There was one among the Council that could decipher them, although how he knew of the language, I know not. I, myself have never even laid eyes on the thing, only heard of it through the Council writings."

"What is the Council?" Legolas asked.

Giles cocked his head. "I'm sorry, I think we're missing a step or two. What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't." Answered Aragorn. "I am Strider and this is Legolas."

"Legolas." Repeated Giles. He was swirling their names around in his brain, straining to remember where he had heard names like that before. 

"Giles." Buffy interrupted his thoughts. "They're from the same place the stone is."

Giles' head shot up. "And where would that be?"

Aragorn and Legolas shared a quick, suspicious glance before Aragorn answered cautiously. "I am from the north and Legolas is from the woodland realm."

Giles was coyly trying to grasp the truth from them. "The woodland realm of what?"

Aragorn and Legolas were now somewhat confused. "Middle Earth." Aragorn emphatically said. 

Giles' entire face lit up, gone completely was any trace of exhaustion or irritability. "Middle Earth." He repeated breathlessly.

Xander's eyebrows furrowed. "What, you guys are from the earth's core or something? Doesn't that get kind of hot?"

"They're not from this dimension Xander." Anya piped up. "They're from a place where magic and Elves and Dwarves and dragons and trolls live."

"Oh my." Xander got his jokingly grin back on his face. "Sounds charming." Anya rolled her eyes and puffed.

"Where is the Palantir?" Aragorn asked. He was studying Giles intently, and as Giles stared back at the young man, he could not help but feel something very powerful emanating from him.

"It was stolen from the Council vault. My best guess is that it has been brought back here. It was probably used somehow to open up that portal." The thoughts were swirling in a chaotic drum in Giles' mind, but they were now beginning to make sense.

"Only one very powerful and knowledgeable could control a Palantir." Legolas stated very quietly.

"Well that officially knocks out most of the vampires in Sunnydale. Are there any new demons or sorcerers hanging out that we don't know of?" Buffy asked.

Giles had taken off his glasses and was chewing slightly on the end of the arm. "But why open it up? What could one possibly hope to gain through that?"

Anya shrugged and smiled flirtatiously at the Elf and human. "Two eligible bachelors?" Xander stepped on her foot, erupting an 'ow' and a glare from his fiancée. 

"Orcs." Legolas stated.

Giles looked up. "Orcs?" Everyone nodded. "There are orcs in Sunnydale?" Everyone nodded again. He may have sworn under his breath, as a matter of fact Legolas was certain he did say something but it did not sound entirely pleasant. "This is worse than I thought." He muttered.

Buffy shrugged. "They didn't seem so bad. Terrible breath though." 

Aragorn directed his full attention to the blasé Slayer. "That was but a sample, young one. A very small sample of the true nature of the beasts. Orcs always attack in multiples and always to the death. They would make a formidable ally for those planning an assault."

Buffy considered his words. "Question is then, who would be dumb enough to plan an assault in Sunnydale?" 

Giles breathed out a frustrated sigh. "Oh, I could think of a few." He could feel his apprehension growing by the minute. "When was the last time the portal opened?"

They all looked amongst themselves, but only shared unsure looks. Buffy finally answered for all of them. "Spike and I first found one dead orc. Then Legolas and Strider showed up and then six more orcs showed up."

Aragorn was doing the math in his head, as was Legolas. Aragorn shook his head. "That does not make sense. All the orcs were drawn in, just as we were. There were at least twenty that we first encountered. Seven lived when the portal opened."

"So, right now there's a whole bunch of dead orcs spewed across Sunnydale? I don't think we're going to win the 'most attractive city in the world' with that tarnishing our image." Xander flung out.

"Xander has a point." Giles stated.

Xander looked like he was going to choke. "I do?"

Giles started pacing around his couches. "We need to find the other orcs. We also need to find where the portal is occurring and if we can reach the other side. But most pressing; we need to find out who is yielding the Palantir."

The decision was made that Legolas and Aragorn would accompany Buffy and Xander in the cemetery to find any discarded orc bodies and to prevent any incoming arrivals from getting further than the graveyard. Giles and Anya called Willow and Tara to help perform research. And Dawn was guarding the home front. As usual.

And so when the night fell, the four relegated to patrol duty had returned home to gather their weapons, then traveled the distance to the cemetery by foot where Legolas and Aragorn found themselves on very familiar ground. Both grimaced with distaste upon entering the empty graveyard, but noticed that the Slayer did not.

"Why do we keep returning here?" Asked Legolas.

Buffy shrugged. "Seems to be a popular spot for Sunnydale hijinks. You get used to the whole emptiness thing after awhile."

"What about the ghosts?" Murmured Aragorn. 

Buffy and Xander both stopped and faced the men who looked distinctly uncomfortable. "What ghosts?" Asked Xander. He and Buffy looked around but could not find any apparent spirits.

"They are all around us. Can you not see them?" Asked Legolas.

Buffy and Xander looked at each other for confirmation that neither of them did, in fact, see any ghosts. Shaking their heads, they continued their trek into the cemetery. "Maybe we're just desensitized." Muttered Buffy.

"Slaying the undead night after night can do that to a person." Remarked Xander.

They foursome stopped in the middle of the cemetery, automatically readying their arms. "Legolas you've got good senses, right?" Asked Buffy, to which the Elf nodded. "You see or smell anything?"

Legolas inhaled deeply, scanning the trees and grave markers about him. "I do not." But there was a tingling tension that gnawed at his being. His instincts were trying to tell him something…

"Legolas?" Aragorn touched the Elf's shoulder softly, accustomed to reading his facial expressions and translating them easily.

"I do not know." Legolas shook his head slowly. "But my heart warns me not to go any further."

Aragorn knew that when Elves spoke of danger, it was best to heed their advice, however vague it may seem.

"What's going on?" Asked Buffy. She had watched the small exchange with some interest. Although she truthfully knew very little about her new hunting partners, she could easily tell that the two must be very close. They seemed to play off each other's emotions and communicated silently with concealed facial gestures that she could not decipher. Nonetheless, she too felt her instincts tremor with anticipation.

"We should turn back." Stated Aragorn.

"We just got here." Pointed out Xander. 'Weren't these guys supposed to be otherworldly warriors or something?' he thought to himself. 'And they're running away just because it's dark out?'

The air around them crackled loudly. Everyone stood paralyzed, staring wide-eyed. "What was that?" Xander quietly asked, although he had a pretty good idea what it was. A resounding boom like the echo of a distant explosion shook the earth. Xander managed to get out an 'oh crap' before a deafening and punishing wind nearly blew him over. Shielding his hand over his face, he strained to squint through the gust of wind to see what was happening and was rewarded with a painful strobe light in his face. He cried out loud and turned his entire body from the onslaught. 

Buffy was yelling, to be armed and ready or something to that effect. Static energy from tendrils of lightning made loose ends of her hair rise eerily. She could barely see, could barely withstand the constant barrage of wind, but held her ground stubbornly with a dagger thrust outwards for any uninvited guests. 

Legolas was about to do something rash, although what he did do surprised even himself. The normally level-headed Elf found himself running _towards_ the fissure instead of away from it. He heard shouting from Aragorn and Buffy to stop, and yet knowing that he should, he continued to make for the portal. Aragorn began running after him, wondering in his mind what could have driven the Elf to insanity. Legolas flung himself into the gap, and Aragorn flung himself after the prince. 

It was brutal blow to them both, like hitting a wall of pure electric energy, that sent them flying back with pained cries. They landed spectacularly with the wind knocked out of them, but as soon as they found air to replenish their lungs, they began to moan.

The fissure closed unceremoniously, although Xander was still crouched with his hands protecting his head. "Is it over yet?"

"What the hell were you thinking?!?" Yelled Buffy as she ran towards the fallen comrades.

"I…t-thought…" Legolas was gasping for air as he tried to spit his reasoning out.

"You could have killed yourself! And me!" Shouted Aragorn, who had pushed himself into a sitting position but was still grasping his stomach with one hand and gritting his teeth together.

Instead of trying to answer, Legolas lay back and placed a hand over his eyes with a groan. Did he have a headache?


	12. Meanwhile Pt2

****

Meanwhile…Pt. Two

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Sunnydale

To anyone else of a 'normal' background, the Magic Box at this time of night would only bring a frightening array of suspicion-laced chills. Every shadow that danced upon the dusty texts and enchanted candles would have one convinced that unearthly spirits were abound. Any creak from the old wooden floor would echo of sinister deeds, any breeze would carry whispers, any-

"Aaackchoo!" Sneezed Willow. Any dust bunny, of which there were multitudes, would cause every sensitive nose to erupt such as Rosenberg's had. 

"Bless you." Tara passed her a box of Kleenex, which Willow thankfully accepted. Her nose and eyes were rimmed in red with allergy induced sinusitis. After she blew her miseries away, the young witch rubbed her eyes and sniffled pathetically as she settled down once again to her readings.

"Are you sure there isn't just another Palantir we could use? Then we could just look inside it and whamo! There's our mystery man." Suggested Anya.

Giles was mumbling under his breath as he traced the Old English words from a spell book with his index finger. "No," he started. "The other Palantir's are all in Middle Earth. We could not reach Middle Earth without the Palantir being used to open it. But we don't have the Palantir,"

"Which is why we need to find out who does." Anya replied while rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Dumb question. But still, it would help if we had another Palantir."

Giles was too absorbed in his studying to counter Anya's stupefying remark. "There must be something, some sort of way to reveal…" But he went back to incoherent mutterings while rubbing his chin unconsciously. 

"I wonder what it's like." Willow said aloud. Tara and Anya both looked at her, prompting her with quizzical facial gestures to continue her oblivious train of thought. "Middle Earth." She explained.

At Willow's pondering, Tara too, began to wonder silently. Anya screwed her mouth up and shrugged. "Kind of like here I guess. That is where it gets its name after all. Except I don't think they have cars or malls or phones. Or guns. They probably ride horses a lot. Ah, the good old days." She sighed. "Or t.v.'s," she continued "or movies, but they have books!" She pointed out. "And wine and sorcerers, and hobbits, and demons, and vampires, and evil squirrels and-"

"Vampires?" Giles looked up.

"Evil squirrels?" Willow and Tara repeated together.  
Anya was lost in her ramblings. "They probably don't have indoor plumbing either."

Giles was holding out his hands to shush everyone down, but Willow and Tara were still staring at each other with amused yet utterly baffled faces. "Wait, wait. Anya, how do you know they have vampires?" Giles asked.

Anya shrugged. "I don't know. It's kind of common knowledge. Word travels pretty quickly in the D.C.S."

"What's the D.C.S.?" Asked Tara.

"The Demon Communication System. Unbelievably effective, like the time that a horde of Pillager Demons were planning on ransacking the country of Kyrgyzstan, except they couldn't find it, so word got out and someone found an atlas-"

"Anya!" Shouted Giles. "Vampires. Middle Earth. Cease your incessant babbling and get to the task at hand."

"No need to get snippy." She chided. "Well weren't you there when Legolas got all mad and- no, wait, I suppose you weren't. I guess there used to be a lot more than there are now, but apparently they do still exist in Mirkwood, but they're way creepier than they are here."

"How so?" Asked the Watcher.

Anya was squinting up at the ceiling as she strained to remember what she had been told. "More pasty and gnarled. They never go back to being human; come to think of it I don't think they ever were humans. They look more like…" She snapped her fingers as she grasped for a comparison. "You know, like one of those…"

Willow and Tara were staring at her with mouths agape. They had no clue what she was going for. 

"…first like demons…"

Giles looked down at his book in defeat, then suddenly raised his head again.

"…then more demonish…"

"Like the First?" He asked.

Willow and Tara gasped. Anya smiled and snapped her fingers then pointed at Giles. "Yeah, like the First!" Her smile immediately left as soon as it appeared. "Oh. Like the First."

__

Mirkwood

The snap and ensuing hiss from a small ember explosion in his fireplace did nothing to remove the melancholy mood from the King. He leaned on one elbow in his high-backed chair, rubbing his index finger and thumb together in a consistent motion, hypnotized by the glowing fire that cast long shadows on his face.

Calenuil strained to see inside the King's private chambers, an act that normally would have been received instantly by Thranduil's sharp hearing, but in his current state the King did nothing to acknowledge his brother's blatant spying. Calenuil's face plainly displayed his distress over his King's lack of activity for the past few days. Not that he couldn't relate to Thranduil, indeed, the whole Kingdom of Mirkwood felt despair growing with the realization that they were helpless to bring the Prince and Elrond's son back. All who approached the bewitched area became increasingly erratic, so much to the point that Calenuil and his guards had to physically restrain two Elves that had become entangled with each other over a mere disagreement about Orcish hunting traits. He sighed, not loudly but enough that Thranduil should have scorned him for interrupting his thoughts so rudely. But the King made no such comment.

A heavy hand on his shoulder made Calenuil jump. He turned about with disdain marring his features, (it was both highly embarrassing and unusual for an Elf to be startled) but his features immediately relaxed when he saw who stood behind him.

Gandalf smiled warmly at the Elf, then peered around him to see the King. "How long has he been as such?" His gruff voice was kept at a steady monotone, not any louder than it needed to be for an Elf's ears.

Calenuil joined the wizard in his scrutiny of the King. "Ever since the Prince and Aragorn disappeared." Calenuil was suddenly confounded by a puzzling realization. "Gandalf, how is it you are here? We only sent word to the Istari but three days ago. Surely it could not have reached you yet." 

One of Gandalf's eyebrows rose mischievously. "A wizard never reveals his secrets, Counsel. Or his sources for that matter."

Calenuil smiled and nodded knowingly. The Greyhamme was renowned for his slightly unorthodox methods. However orthodox wizards could be, he supposed.

"My Lord!" A scout came running towards the chamber room, ignoring Calenuil and Gandalf and heading for the seated King. The two followed the panting scout into the room and stood behind him rigidly as he kneeled before his liege. "My Lord," he prompted again.

Thranduil looked up slowly, as if momentarily lost. His eyes flicked from the urgent scout's face and up to the two behind him. After blinking for a few minutes, the King seemed to come out of his reverie quite suddenly. "Gandalf?" 

Gandalf was about to reply when the King turned his full attention upon the scout. "What news?" He demanded.

"My Lord, my scouting party was placed at the edges of the cursed ground where we lost the Prince and young Aragorn. We stayed on watch throughout the night, when we felt the storm arise as it did that same fateful day." He paused to catch his breath while everyone in attendance silently hung on his every word. Thranduil made an impatient motion with his hand for the Elf to continue. "We saw the fissure open, even larger than before. But we heard voices."

"What were the voices?" Questioned the King.

"We heard a woman's voice. And then we heard two more voices. I am positive of it my Lord, they were the voices of Aragorn and Legolas."

The three listeners studied each other with serious stares. "Then they are alive." Calenuil said softly.

"What did my son say? Could you speak with him?" Thranduil asked.

The scout shook his head sadly. "No my Lord. Nor could we entirely understand what the three spoke of. But I am certain that Legolas attempted to come back." 

Gandalf inhaled deeply. "But they did not make it through. The question is why?" 

Thranduil studied the Istari intensely. "Gandalf, would you be so kind as to inspect the area? I am exhausted of all knowledge on how to retrieve my son and Elrond's."

Gandalf gave his warmest hopeful smile. "I will do so immediately." He placed a comforting hand on the Thranduil's shoulder. "We will find them, your Majesty."

__

In the alleys of Sunnydale

Whoever said that vampires were morbid and gothic and dreary obviously didn't live the life that William the Bloody did. At least that's what he liked to think as he pounded back yet another shot at an underground pub playing 70's blues music. He flicked his cigarette in the glass ashtray and rolled the shot glass on the bar, much to the annoyance of the bartender who stood glaring at him with his hands on his hips. Fed up, the bartender snatched the glass away and stalked to the end of the bar, mumbling expletives under his breath.

Spike considered taking a wallop at the man, and then reconsidered. He was well trained enough to know what that brought about. He compared his situation to that of the dog being held back by the electric fence. Say what you will about reformed vicious dogs all thanks to an idiotic invention, like it or not the dog was still stewing with pent up aggression. He pushed himself away from the bar and slung his leather jacket over his shoulder while lighting another cigarette. He was bored. Had seen and done it all. And drank it all too. Life was useless and mundane. 'Passions' was in a rump for the past month.

He slammed open the rusty old bar door and it hit the side of the brick wall with a bang. It was the backdoor entrance, leading to the large green dumpster and his bike, which was parked next to several discarded black garbage bags. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, was about to mount his bike when he heard an odd commotion that begged his attention.

Past his bike, near the mouth of the alleyway were two figures, humanoid from what he could tell. They were hunched over something, and seemed to be tearing at it. They took no notice of him as Spike cautiously walked towards them, willing his footsteps to be silent. Approaching them from behind, Spike was somewhat reviled to find two vampires feasting on an Orc, snarling at each other like rabid dogs as they tore the flesh away from the decomposed body. Spike could not help but emit a very loud 'eeeew' which immediately caught the attention of the two feasters. They growled at him as they stood, but then one cocked his head.

"Spike? Hey, how's it going man?"

Spike saluted with his two fingers that were clutching the cigarette. "Alright mate. You?"

The vampire shrugged and smiled. "Terrific. Say, you hungry?"

Spike wrinkled his nose as he gazed down at the ravished body. "Um, no that's alright. Got some warm pig's blood at home."

The vampire laughed. "Pig's blood? Man, that's rank. You should really give it a try dude. Makes you feel…good." They turned from him and went back to the banquet, tearing the flesh with their teeth in true animalistic fashion. 

Spike found himself morbidly captivated by the gruesome scene. "Why are you eating that?" 

The other vampire that had remained silent up to this point now stood and glowered at Spike with dark clotted blood dripping from his mouth. "You gotta problem with that? Whatsa matter, jealous?" The two vampires began laughing, only that one that strode towards Spike had a distinctly more maniacal tone. The vampire pushed Spike roughly. "You wanna go man?"

Spike took a quick drag of his smoke and threw it away as he smirked at the vampire. "You've got to be kiddin' me. You? You ain't nothin' but a pup, mate. Yeah, lets go. Lets give you a lesson." Spike rushed the vampire, but was unbelievably surprised when the vampire stood calmly and unleashed a pounding right to his stomach that made Spike double over and gasp for air. The vampire grasped both his hands in the air and brought them down on Spike's back, pummeling him to the ground. A kick to his cheek sent the world exploding into stars, and forced him onto his back. The vampire reached down, and with unnatural strength, held Spike up with one hand around his neck. Spike grasped the hand clutched around his throat, choking for air as he thrashed in the vampire's grip. The vampire brought him in close to his face, as if inspecting him, then laughed and threw Spike. Spike hit his bike, hard. As he lay gasping for air and threateningly close to unconsciousness, he heard the vampire approach him.

"Time to get outta the game you old fart. We got ourselves some new protein now."

It was the last thing Spike heard until the ringing in his ears became a torrential wave and sucked him into oblivion. 

****


	13. Bathroom Conversations

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Daylight – * gushes * You give me tons of credit, so I hope I won't disappoint you (or anyone else for that matter!)

Europa – Now with new and improved euphoric sensations!

Lisette – You're giving me ideas…

****

Bathroom Conversations

The foursome had trudged back to the Summers' house in relative silence, with the Slayer sneaking furtive glances at her two counterparts in concern. Strider kept one arm close to his stomach in a guarded fashion, and Buffy could not be sure if it was his arm, his ribs or both that were injured. For his behalf, he made no comment on his obvious injury, but by the way his jaw was rigidly clenched, she knew it was a painful burden.

The Elf kept a stony composure and although he was perfectly aware that she was studying him, he gave no acknowledgement of such. Outwardly, she could see no apparent wounds and he gave no physical indication that he had any, until she spotted a dark scorch mark on his upper left arm. She hoped the charred area was his sweatshirt and not his skin, but she had to wonder how much of a protest he would put up if she tried to inspect it.

Before Buffy could turn the doorknob, it swung open revealing an anxious Dawn. "What happened? Are you okay? Did you see anything? Were there – "

"Dawn, hold up." Buffy held both her hands out as a means to slow her sister's barrage of questioning down. The four slowly stepped into the entranceway, and Dawn suddenly became aware of Legolas and Strider's wearied faces. 

"What's wrong?"

Strider shot a quick glance in Legolas' direction, but the Elf refused to meet his gaze. After a few moments of awkward silence, Buffy waved the question off. "Nothing. Dawn, Xander, could you guys make something to eat?" The two looked at each other with quizzical expressions; neither one of them was particularly adept in the kitchen. "Strider, Legolas, follow me."

Buffy headed upstairs, hearing the footsteps of her injured companions following closely behind. She headed for the master bedroom, her bedroom, and turned the light on in the bathroom. Strider and Legolas stood in the doorway of the bedroom, cautiously examining the room. She became slightly peeved that they wouldn't trust her enough to come into her bedroom, until she realized that they were actually waiting outside the room as a gesture of politeness.

"You can come in." she coaxed. They stepped in slowly, still looking at all her curious and at sometimes familiar objects. Buffy pointed to the bed. "Legolas, have a seat. Strider, you're with me."

Aragorn was not used to taking orders, especially from a petite young woman. But the Ranger was a master at reading other people and playing on his instincts, so he felt it was probably best to follow her commands. Still, it was somewhat humourous and he had to smile when he thought of what Elrohir and Elladan would have remarked had they seen him now.

Legolas sat stiffly on the edge of the bed with his hands folded in his lap as he watched Buffy lead Aragorn into a small room and close the door. He did not distrust the woman, but he felt an overwhelming need to know what was transpiring beyond the closed door. He consciously decided to keep his ears closely trained on hearing every muffled sound that came from within.

Aragorn knew it was a room for bathing; that much was obvious by the large basin and towels hanging beside it. What he couldn't figure out was what the white funny looking chair was for.

"Sit." Buffy prompted. 'Oh,' thought Aragorn. It was for sitting. Obviously. With a pained grunt, the hardy Ranger lowered himself onto the chair, but felt the top shift under his weight. It was overall a silly design, he decided.

"Take off your sweater."

The command elicited an incredulous look from Strider. This was quite improper. "Madam, I do not think – "

"Look, you don't have to be modest around me. We need to look at those ribs and make sure nothing's too damaged. Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before." Her candid reasoning left a blank stare on Aragorn's face. After a few blinks while he considered his options – which were none – the Ranger ultimately acceded and slowly started to remove the black sweater. The movement of lifting his arms up over his head proved to be quite painful and after struggling a bit, he was both embarrassed and ingratiated by the Slayer finally pulling the garment over his head and wrists for him. 

Buffy stooped to eye the mottled bruising that covered his right side and stretched out over his stomach. She was about to experimentally poke at his ribs when she though better of it. Judging by the several scars dotting his half-naked torso, he probably already knew what was wrong.

"Are any of them broken?"

"At least one is." He answered in a gruff voice.

Buffy stood with her hands on her hips and chewed her bottom lip as she thought. "Well, we can tape it up. I can give you ice to help with the swelling and maybe some Tylenol for the pain but that's about it. You're going to have to try to not move around so much to give them a rest."

Aragorn smiled at her. "You didn't tell me you were a healer and a slayer."

Buffy turned her head to hide her bashful smile. She guess she did sound a bit like a doctor.

Legolas mentally admonished himself for eavesdropping. He knew his friend was more than capable enough to defend and think for himself. Determined to preoccupy his time rather than spy, the Elf turned his attention onto the bedside table where an odd looking black box held glowing symbols and a fire-less light cast shadows on the wall. Tucked behind the box and facing the bed was a portrait of amazing clarity and colour. Whoever drew this had to be a master artisan. Legolas picked up the frame and studied the faces. It was a smiling threesome of beautiful women, two he readily identified as Buffy and her younger sister Dawn. But the third woman he had not met; she was older than the other two, but had the familiar glowing smile of the two siblings. He replaced the frame and slowly stood, searching the walls for more portraits. Across the bed was a large oak dresser, upon which was perched many more intricately drawn faces, more containing the mysterious woman. Legolas held up two different pictures, one of the woman and one of Buffy, comparing them for their similarities and coming to an abrupt conclusion. Was this Buffy's mother?

Strider had grunted occasionally while Buffy tightly wound the tape across his midsection in silence. Standing back, she surveyed her work with satisfaction when she noticed the Ranger scratching his head and coming away with bloodied fingers.

"Hey." She announced and Strider looked up at her with surprise until he looked at his fingers. Buffy was already standing over him and separating his hair when she found it – a gash surrounded by an ugly raised bump.

"Hold still." She ordered as she fetched a clean cloth and antiseptic. Strider hissed in pain as she applied the stinging serum. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "You guys probably don't have to put up with this where you're from."

"On the contrary." Aragorn said through gritted teeth. "My father seems to take immense pleasure in administering harsher treatments for foolish injuries."

Buffy laughed lightly. "Is that what most of those scars are from? Foolish injuries?"

"Some." He replied truthfully. "Some are from actual battles."

Buffy nodded. "You and Legolas need to fight a lot where you're from?"

"Legolas more than I. Until recently, I had rarely seen battle. Rivendell is a carefully hidden and guarded city."

Buffy rolled the name around in her mind. "Rivendell." She repeated. "Sounds pretty."

"It's breathtaking. Open terraces filled with gardens, rivers and waterfalls everywhere you look, Elven statues that pre-date most men." As he spoke of his home, a warm light danced in his eyes.

"You live with Elves?" She asked, to which Strider nodded. "Why? I mean, why don't you live with humans?"

The warm light left his face and was replaced by something much darker. "It is not safe."

She was tempted to push him for more info, but reconsidered. It was apparent that it was not the most comfortable subject for him. Wiping away the last smear of blood, she passed him his sweater back. "All done."

The more Legolas studied the various pictures in Buffy's room, the more troubled he became. Something was very wrong. The photographs with Buffy's supposed mother seemed to speak their sadness openly to him, while the photographs with Dawn appeared out of place to him, yet he could not fathom why. There were no pictures of any men besides Sander and the man Giles. Giles did not physically _appear_ to be Buffy's father, but Legolas had to assume he was related in some fashion, for there was no evidence of her father anywhere. Perhaps he was a great warrior who perished in battle, but only after training his daughter to become a shieldmaiden. Still, the portraits were unsettling. He picked up a large framed photograph of the woman, an older one lacking any colour. She appeared to be in her youth and looking just slightly past the artist's view. Legolas eyebrows furrowed. He thought he could hear whispers emanating from the picture itself. He ran his finger over the woman's frozen face and a name suddenly entered his mind. '_Joyce_'. 

"Next." 

Legolas jumped as the door swung open and Aragorn and Buffy walked through. Aragorn was walking much stiffer than before and he looked slightly uncomfortable. "Why don't you go downstairs and make sure they aren't going to poison us all with their cooking?" She suggested to Aragorn, and for a moment, shock flittered across his face until he registered her cynicism.

Legolas was watching him leave, unaware that he was still holding the photograph. Buffy walked up to him and stood at his side, smiling sadly at the picture. "Beautiful, wasn't she?" Legolas looked surprised at her comment, then gazed down at the woman and nodded. "That was taken when she was a teenager." Buffy explained.

"She's not here anymore, is she?" Legolas asked softly.

A flood of sadness threatened to engulf her, but she fought it with every ounce of her strength. "No," she finally answered. "She isn't." She gently took the photograph from his hands and placed it back on the dresser. "It's your turn."

Legolas eyed her. "For what?"

Buffy smiled broadly. This wasn't going to be easy; she could tell. "For your appointment with Doctor Buffy." He shook his head at her in a questioning reaction. She pointed to the burn on his bicep. He reflexively placed a guarding hand over it and shook his head again, this time in defiance.

"I need no treatment."

Buffy shrugged with aloofness. "Okay, fine. Have it your way. See if I care when it gets all infected and nasty." She pivoted as if to walk away and the gullible Elf fell for it, as he relaxed his stance and removed his hand from the wound. With lightening speed, the Slayer whipped around and whacked his injured upper arm, not hard but enough to make the archer gasp. Momentarily stunned by her action, Buffy seized her opportunity and grasped his good hand, dragging the unwilling Elf into the bathroom.

She forcefully made him sit on the toilet, and she couldn't help but grin at the deadly glare he sent in her direction. "Not used to being told what to do, huh?"

Legolas stubbornly looked away. Her assertion was only partly true. 

Buffy held out his bad arm and inspected the charred black edges of the sweatshirt. Her first fears that the skin was badly burnt underneath had been confirmed. "Off." She ordered as she pointed at the sweatshirt. She was certain that he was growling at her underneath his breath as he gingerly removed the top. She opened the medicine cabinet and selected a wad of bandaging and antiseptic cream. Closing the cabinet door, she faced the now shirtless Elf and her eyes nearly bugged out. She suddenly felt as giddy and self-conscious as Dawn. The Elf had the most perfectly constructed chest and arms she'd ever had the pleasure of being witness to. After several seconds of glorified ogling, the Slayer felt instant redness rise up her face when Legolas turned and unhappily looked up at her. 'Well, get on with it you drooling moron,' his eyes seemed to say to her.

Buffy fought to regain her composure, but ultimately failed as she began to stutter while cleaning the wound with a dampened cloth. "So. Do, ah, you…work out a lot?" She immediately regretted saying it and mentally slapped herself.

Legolas looked at her, puzzled. "Do you mean archery practice?" To which she quickly nodded. He shrugged with his right shoulder. "I suppose so."

Buffy was doing her best to bury her still blushing face by concentrating deeply on the badly burnt area. "This is probably going to scar." She warned.

"Elves don't scar."

Buffy started to laugh. "You don't scar and you don't sleep with your eyes closed. What else don't you do?"

Legolas couldn't be sure if she was laughing at him or the fact he didn't have the same characteristics of mortals. "We don't age either." He said cautiously.

"Hmmm." Buffy hummed as she finished the cleansing. She stood and turned away, now feeling back to her regular self. "So how old are you then?"

"Over 500 years."

She nearly choked. How come the best looking men in the world (and in all others apparently) have to be centuries older?

"It's still quite young for an Elf." He reasoned.

Buffy turned back around to study the young Elf with the bottle of antiseptic in her hand. "I bet." She liberally poured a large amount onto a piece of gauze, turning her nose up at the smell it emitted. "This is going to sting a little."

Legolas was studying her, and considered telling her that Elves don't feel – but reasonably decided against it. Unfortunately he wasn't prepared for quite _that_ amount of stinging. The moment the cotton gauze grazed his burn, his entire arm felt like it was engulfed in flames. "Sweet Elbereth!" He cried as his entire body jolted and his right leg kicked out, neatly clipping Buffy in the shin. She went down forward, unable to stop her momentum with the antiseptic in one hand and the cotton in the other.

And found herself living Dawn's wildest dream. The Slayer had been propelled into Legolas' sitting body, and she now had her head over Legolas' right shoulder with his good arm cradling her back to keep her from slipping. Buffy turned her head and Legolas found his face buried in her hair. He inhaled, and was rewarded with the sweetest of fragrances from her blonde locks. Buffy turned her head the other way as she realized her hair was all over his face. Despite the unbelievable awkwardness of the moment, Buffy could not help but gaze into his intense blue eyes. He made no move to help her get back up, but stared right back. He could hear her heart beating, feel her chest expand with each breath. Buffy hooked her right arm over his shoulder, hoping that it would help balance her so she could stand back up, but as she moved it only brought it her closer to his face and as her eyelids fluttered and his mouth beckoned – 

"Getting' kind of cozy, aren't we?" Spike stood in the doorway with one hand lazily draped on the doorframe. 

Flustered, Buffy ungracefully managed to get to her feet and stammered at Spike. "Well, what are you doing here? I mean you can't just – hey, what happened to your face?"

"Long story."

__

Ack! I know, I'm evil. This chapter in no way entails that this is going to be a Buffy/Legolas or not a Buffy/Legolas. I just thought I'd be a tease and let Buffy live out MY wildest dream. Sigh.


	14. Opening Up a Can of

__

It's okay Supergurl, it's going to be…alright. It'll all make sense in the end. (I hope! Sometimes I confuse myself.)

Apologies for the delay – just came back from a mini-vacation in Jasper. Ahhh. Am now refreshed and refocused. Somewhat humbled too.

****

Opening Up a Can of…

Buffy finished dressing Legolas' wound with Spike hovering near the entrance to the small washroom. Gone completely was any tenderness or attempts to be gentle as she tugged the bandage into place hurriedly, missing the pained wince from the Elven prince. Legolas could not help but notice that a small tinge of redness never left her cheeks, nor he could miss the fact that she refused to look into his face. She left all her medical supplies on the counter and squeezed past Spike to rush downstairs. Spike watched her leave with a smirk, then faced the smoldering Elf.

"Lose your shirt mate?"

The Elf glared at the vampire but said nothing as he pulled the burned sweatshirt over his head. Legolas was about to leave the room when Spike held out an arm, catching him across the chest. Legolas first looked at the offending arm, then sent the most deadly look he could muster in the vampire's direction. The glare would have had any normal man back down, but Spike merely shrugged off the glance with a malicious grin of his own. "Stay away from the Slayer, boy. She's got a weakness for blondes."

Legolas growled underneath his breath. "Apparently the only weakness the maiden possesses is failing to recognize true evil."

Spike cocked his head as the grin left his face quickly. "An' what's that supposed to mean?"

Legolas let his eyes narrow until they were nothing but hate-filled slits. "Where I come from, we do not hesitate to dispose of your kind."

Spike harrumphed and began to walk away. "You just did, fool." Spike strode out of the room and sauntered down the stairs, aggressively pushing Strider out of the way as the Ranger tried to climb up them. 

Legolas was about to follow Spike when Aragorn barred his way. Aragorn studied the scowling Elven prince with unease. As Legolas attempted to side-step the man, Aragorn placed a restraining palm on his chest. "What happened?" He asked in his deepest tone.

Legolas shrugged off his hand and turned away. "Nothing." He replied softly. Aragorn placed another hand on his shoulder, trying to turn the Elf back around to face him when Legolas lifted his head and began sniffing. "What is that?"

Aragorn glanced back downstairs and grimaced. "Something called 'sloppy joes'. It did not look very desirable." 

She had a perplexed look on her face that did not go unnoticed as she entered the kitchen.

"Everything okay, Buff?" Xander asked as he prepared the buns for his world-famous sloppy-joe fest. Dawn stood over the bubbling pot, stirring the meat soaked in Xander's extra-extra-spicy concoction. She wiped away the heat-induced tear from her cheek and rubbed her nose where she thought she inhaled a chili flake.

"Fine." She nodded noncommittally. Xander didn't buy it, but he knew better than to press the stubborn young women for answers she didn't want to give. It was like pulling the horns off a bull. So instead he nodded and set his face in a defeated frown.

"Slayer, we need to talk." Spike announced as he strolled into the kitchen. 

"Spike, lay off." Buffy rolled her eyes as she turned away from him. "I don't need to justify myself to you, I just slipped. If you weren't so insecure this wouldn't be a big deal and nothing happened anyway, we just –"

"I was going to tell you about what I saw tonight. This has nothing to do with you an' pretty boy up there." He retorted.

"Oh." She stopped. There was an awkward silence hanging in the air, with Spike huffing, Xander scrutinizing and Dawn flat out threatening her silently. '_Open mouth, insert foot,' _she couldn't help but smugly think.

"Look, somethin' weird's goin' on. Found another one of them dead Orcs, 'cept this one was being devoured by two vampires."

This indeed captured everyone's attention. "I thought vampires didn't like to eat things that are already dead." Xander pointed out.

Spike shrugged. "Sure seemed to like this one. That, an' it did somethin' to them. Made 'em stronger."

The three sighed as they considered the new bit of information. "Great." Muttered Buffy.

"So Orc snacks are replacing humans? Isn't this a good thing?" Suggested Dawn.

Buffy shook her head. "Not if it makes them stronger. We've got to stop this portal before more of those things come through. The last thing we need is muscle-headed dimwits roaming around."

"What are dimwits?" 

Buffy turned around to find Strider and Legolas slowly entering the kitchen. 

"It's another term for dumbasses." Xander helped out. Strider and Legolas shared an odd look but decided not to pursue the matter.

"Orc blood seems to be having an undesirable effect on our local vampire population." Buffy began explaining. "It's making them more powerful; not exactly something we need. But we have to find out if it makes them harder to kill. Who's up for patrol with me?"

Dawn immediately shot up her hand but Buffy's eyes passed right over her. Instead, Strider and Legolas both took a step forward. "We shall help you slay these demons." Legolas stated calmly.

"My hero." Spike's voice was laced with sarcasm.

"Spike." Buffy sent him a warning tone accompanied by a harsh stare. Legolas' eyes turned cloudy as he glared at the sneering vampire. Strider once again placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Look, this isn't the time-"

Buffy never got the chance to finish her reprimand as the living room windows exploded in a hale of glass. Buffy blocked the tiny shards with her hands before they could imbed themselves in her face, but instantly readied herself in a fighting stance to face the two vampires that just jumped through her now-windowless room. She didn't have a chance to prepare for long, as the back door beside the kitchen was kicked off its hinges by a crazed looking vampire. Turning to see the newest addition, she missed blocking the punch aimed at her head from one of the original three and found herself blinking stars out of her eyes as her head rocked backed violently with the impact. Xander rushed forward to her defence but was easily swapped aside by a nasty backhand that officially left him out for the rest of the duration of the fight. 

The vampire that had entered through the kitchen door had turned its sights on Dawn who shrieked in fright. Spike spun around and was about to attack when the vampire viciously elbowed him in the nose, making blood spurt from a very-broken nasal cavity. Spike went down holding his nose with both hands, blinded by pain. The vampire glanced at his downed quarry before rearing on Dawn again. She grabbed the pot of bubbling meat and swung at him, neatly covering his grotesque face in stewed beef and creating a surprised cry from the vampire. As he clawed at the scalding goop dripping off his face, Dawn swung again, this time with the back of the pot that left the vampire stumbling for balance.

After their initial shock, Strider and Legolas rushed the two vampires that were standing menacingly over the stunned figure of Buffy. Each vampire turned around and took the swinging punches from the Ranger and Elf as if they were nothing but annoying slaps. Strider's foe caught him by the neck and threw him, making the Ranger skitter across the coffee table and land in a heap behind it. Legolas aimed a left for the jaw of his vampire, but the beast caught his fist in a crushing clench and backhanded the surprised Prince. A high kick to his chest sent Legolas sprawling beside his friend. More angered than hurt, Legolas immediately got to his feet and rushed his opponent again.

Buffy was being steadily kicked and punched through the kitchen. The Slayer was blocking and even trying her own moves, only to find them being effectively avoided and countered with more powerful attacks. The vampire was driving her through the broken down mess of her kitchen door and into her back yard. 

Dawn screamed Buffy's name at the sight of her sister being pummeled like a rag doll. Momentarily forgetting her own troubles, the teenager moved to help, but yelped when she felt her hair being harshly pulled back by an unseen hand. Dawn clutched at her taut hair as her eyes strained to see who her attacker was.

The vampire had managed to clean off most of the sloppy joe meat, but the stinging burns only added more fuel to his anger. He grinned maliciously as he pulled the young woman in close to his chest. "Forget something?" He growled.

Spike was up again although slightly woozy from the blood dripping out of his nose and rolling off his chin. He approached the vampire holding Dawn to his chest in a daze and the vampire grinned at his easy prey. Spike doubled over as a snap kick caught him in the stomach. A quick roundhouse to his temple knocked him senseless.

Dawn jumped as a cold finger traced her jaw line. She shuddered at the hoarse voice that whispered in her ear. "Just you and me now darling."

The vampire was highly amused at the blonde and dark-haired men attacking him from both sides. Blocking a punch from the blonde, he quickly threw one of his own at the brunette on his other side. Backhanding the blonde and sending him to his knees, the vampire grew tired of the countless and essentially useless punches being levied at him. He was going to end this, quickly. The dark-haired came in for close combat and the vampire seized, literally, his opportunity by catching him in another vise-grip around his neck. The vampire took pleasure in seeing the human struggle for breath before he ended the fight by throwing the man across the room and into the glass hutch, showering the fallen human with chunks of glass and ceramic plates.

Legolas was growing frustrated with every moment of the fight. He had just seen Aragorn being thrown clear across the room – something that he had never seen happen before to the hardy Ranger. With every punch that he threw and every block that rendered it useless, the Elf suddenly longed for his absent bow and arrow. The vampire was laughing at him and Legolas felt his rage peak like never before. But his rage made his instincts blind to the jab that nearly collapsed his windpipe. Legolas immediately fell to his knees, gasping for air and fighting the dizziness that accompanied the sudden lack of oxygen. The vampire strode past him and went into the kitchen.

Buffy was losing the fight and she knew it. Her muscles were more tired from the ceaseless bruising than from the futile punches she was giving. She was being backed up with every kick, but where to she couldn't guess. The assault ended abruptly, and she looked up to see what had caught her attacker's attention. The two other vampires were standing outside the door, and one held a squirming Dawn in his grasp. Buffy felt a sudden fire engulf her as her energy kickstarted itself back up. As she moved to dart over to her captive sister, the vampire turned quickly and swung with more strength than Buffy could ever have anticipated. She alarmingly found herself flying through the air and being stopped painfully by a large tree trunk. She fell to her chest and did not rise.


	15. Is that a First in your pocket?

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YAY!!! FINAL EXAMS ARE OVER! Now where the heck was I?

Lisette – Yes I chose the easy way out, but don't worry; it's not going to last for long.

All who caught on to my non-usage of the polite-vampire-rule: I never did care for that one.

****

Is That a First in Your Pocket?

There was a time in Rupert Giles' life when he thought he would not be able to survive the trials and tribulations that a young spunky blonde had introduced him to. There were times when he thought his head would explode from the moments that said spunky blonde had driven him over the edges of insanity by simply being a teenager and doing what teenagers inherently do. 

He recalled another time and another place. _"Now if you'll excuse me, I must go find something slutty to wear." _The times when he slapped his forehead and wished he practiced yoga. The times when verbal statements and expressions of clothing racked his poor fragile mind with confusion. When he doubted his ability to age gracefully and adapt to changing styles. How foolish he'd been.

Then there were times when he thought his chest would explode from beating too fast with worry. When he felt his heart wrench at the sight of a single tear, a lip quiver or the cracks in her voice when she spoke as she cried. When he swelled with pride at the sight of her conquering her fears and doubts, in essence conquering his fears and doubts. Or when his entire body went cold with dread for he knew that some evil had befallen her and he wasn't there to prevent it.

As he did now.

He stood on the front lawn, frozen in shock at the site of the bungalow's drapes swirling freely in the wind where there had once been a window. And the silence, the overwhelming silence where there should have been cries for help; that was what troubled him most. 

The sounds of running feet behind him told him that the three other girls had exited the car and were now surveying the damage with him.

"Buffy," a panic-stricken Willow cried before she darted into the house foolishly. Tara followed closely behind, but Giles could not seem to move his feet. Anya lingered with him, touching his arm softly to reach beyond his paralyzing state. 

"Giles, we have to go." She urged, and he looked at her blankly. She pleaded with her eyes and he finally nodded at her, following her slowly as she bounded inside.

Broken glass crunched underneath their feet as they cautiously made their way around the trashed living room. Willow gasped as she nearly tripped over the unconscious figure of Strider, his body littered with broken plates and plane glass. Willow knelt beside him, checking his pulse with two fingers on his neck and sighing with relief that there was one. A hacking cough alerted them to the Elf, slumped against the wall and looking quite dazed. Tara crouched beside him, checking him over and murmuring quiet words of encouragement to bring him around. With a startled cry, Anya raced over Xander's prone form but began to moan when she called his name. 

Stepping past the makeshift nurses and their patients, Giles entered the kitchen and frowned grimly upon seeing it for the first time. Spike lay face down, surrounded by a mess of what Giles hoped was nothing more than remnants from dinner. Long slivers of the kicked in door jam littered the entryway, and although somewhat feeling concerned for the downed vampire, he felt more compelled to enter the backyard. 

He broke into a run when he found her, lying limply in front of a large tree. Falling to his knees, he gently rolled her over and supported her body in his arms as he called her name. He wiped a smear of blood away from her mouth, grimacing at the site of bruises marring her fair features. Relief flooded him when her eyelashes fluttered until she finally focused on his face.

"I don't think we won." She groaned. Despite his previous state, Giles felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"No, by the looks of it I don't think you did."

With more effort than should have been needed, Buffy struggled to rise to her feet, aided by Giles holding her elbows and steadying her wobbling form. "They took Dawn."

"Well that's hardly original." He muttered but noticed the sharp glance from Buffy. "Don't worry; we'll find her." He reassured.

She winced as she rotated her right shoulder, working out the kinks. "Is everyone else okay?"

Giles frowned as he recalled neglecting to check on Spike, but he nodded anyway as they slowly, and in Buffy's case painfully, made their way back inside the house. He needn't have worried about Spike, for the vampire had made his way into a sitting position and was rubbing his forehead with one hand. 

Hearing the pained groans of her comrades awakening, Buffy couldn't help but sigh in resignation at the sight of her house. "I think my insurance is going to go up."

"The First? You've got to be kidding me." Buffy had one of the most exasperated looks on her face as she stood with her hands on her hips, facing the sitting and hurting crew. "How come the dead don't ever stay dead?"

Xander shrugged as he held an ice pack firmly against his cheek. "Because that would be way too easy."

Giles was pacing in the corner and twirling his glasses around by the arm. "They have Dawn, which undoubtedly means they plan to lure you into a trap."

"So the First can finish off what he started." Buffy concluded. "This is getting so old."

"But this time everyone is stronger. They're all psycho-macho vamps now." Willow pointed out.

Buffy nodded with Willow. "So that's going to make it tougher. Which means we need all the help we can get." She looked directly at Legolas and Strider who were sitting calmly on the couch.

"Then you shall have it." Strider said with a smile.

"Thank you. We need to split up into two teams. One is going back to the cemetery to get rid of any unwanted visitors. Lets cut off their supply of Orc snacks before they can get anymore. The other is coming with me to find Dawn."

Although it was suggested that Spike join the graveyard crew, he adamantly refused to leave Buffy's side. Whether that was because he was genuinely concerned about Dawn's safety or because we was wary about any possible happenings between the Slayer and Legolas along the way was anybody's guess. Whatever the actual reasoning, Buffy found herself sandwiched between the vampire and the Elf.

Strider voluntarily joined the graveyard crew along with a crossbow-armed Xander, Anya, the two witches and Giles. Willow and Tara were going to do more watching than fighting (much to their relief) to study the portal and counter it, if that was possible.

Despite the fact that they had nearly been annihilated a few hours earlier, Legolas could not help but feel an enormous exuberance as they traveled in what Buffy had informed him was a 'car' (a shortened version of cart apparently). And despite the fact that they had restrained him with odd looking belts in his seat, the Elf could not sit still for long as he peered out the side windows, fumbled with the hidden compartments and craned his neck to see out the large back window, gasping as he tried to follow the dotted yellow lines as they swooshed behind the car. Buffy glanced in the rear-view mirror and smiled at his obvious enthusiasm.

"So. You guys get lots of these where you're from?" Xander was straining for some sort of conversation with the Ranger as they leaned nonchalantly on a raised tomb. 

Strider held his sword loosely between both hands, studying the magnificent object with a keen eye. "What do you mean?"

Xander shrugged. He honestly wasn't quite sure what he meant. "You know. Vampires and other ugly thingamabobs?" 

Strider smiled thoughtfully in the young man's direction. "Yes. But our realm is not so dreary as you may think. There is much good to be found."

Xander cocked his head to the side. "You probably think this a pretty messed up place, huh?"

Strider's smile slowly left his face. "There is much here that we do not understand. There is much here that I would not wish to understand."

Xander looked down and kicked a small pebble by his foot. "We're not exactly kind to each other."

"That exists where I am from as well." Strider clasped Xander's shoulder in a firm grip, surprising the Scooby. "But I know goodness and courage when I see it. You fight a noble fight, even if the rewards are not forthcoming from your fellow man. I hope you shall continue that fight, and one day perhaps be victorious." The Ranger clapped him on the back as he stood. 

"Live long and prosper." Xander muttered. Strider turned around with eyebrows raised in question. Xander blushed and fumbled for an answer. "It's sort of a saying around here."

"If you're a nerd." Anya strolled towards the two with her arms crossed in front of her.

"Strider?" Giles broke up the guaranteed squabble between the two lovebirds. "Might I have a word with you?"

Strider nodded and followed the Watcher behind a small stone building, a crypt of some sort and well out of the way of the others. "Now, you said that you knew of the palantir. That there were more than just this one, what did you mean?"

"There were many palantiri placed throughout Elendil's realm; it was he who forged them. Elves cherished the plantiri, for the stones gave them sight into the Undying Lands. But other races in Middle Earth did not covet them for that reason. They were powerful, beyond that of any man. Many years ago the palantiri were lost; all efforts to recover those missing has been in vain." 

Giles studied the man with wary temperance. "Then someone brought one here. If the First is using the palantir to open the portal, then it has to be the palantir that closes it. The question is how." Strider nodded his agreement. "Tell me about the Eye."

Strider reacted as though he'd been punched in the face. "What?"

Giles did not flinch from his reaction; he knew this would not be an easy subject. "The Eye. There were writings that the Council recovered, along with the palantir."

Strider shook his head slowly, and for the first time Giles noticed that all colour seemed to drain from his face. "It is not possible. There are rumours, but nothing-"

"Trust me, it's there." Giles finished for him.

Strider shook his head and exhaled slowly. "The Eye is said to be all that remains of Sauron the Destroyer, an enemy of all the free races of Middle Earth. He was vanquished, but some said his spirit still lingered in the form of a great, lidless eye, wreathed in flame."

"Could the First communicate with him, through the palantir?"

Strider's head snapped around with eyes widened in shock. This thought had never occurred to him before. "I do not see why Sauron would wish to."

Giles began pacing. "The vampires on your world look like the First. The vampires on our world become stronger from eating the orcs. Do yours?"

Strider was absolutely flabbergasted. "I have no idea. Such an event has never been recorded of vampires feasting on orcs."

Giles shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense. Unless…unless he's trying to get back."

Despite her stoic appearance, Buffy could not repress the mounting tension in her chest. She did not fear the vampires; after years of slaying, they had become more of a meddlesome nuisance than actual threat to her life. She did not fear for Dawn's life; she knew that Dawn was merely the bait, and although she had no doubt that her younger sister was frightened, she instinctively knew that no harm would come to her. She did not fear for either Spike or Legolas' life; the two were more than capable enough to handle themselves. But the orc blood changed the situation a bit.

And this is where she died.

It was surreal to visit your own death site. Although this was not nearly as surreal as visiting your own dismantled grave; that was downright creepy. But to know this was where you took your last breath, heard your last heartbeat; that was enough to make the Slayer anxious. 

It was a reflective moment for her, knowing that her entire life revolved around death, even her own. She sometimes wondered when her life would revolve around life. Giving life instead of taking it.

"Somethin' on your mind bit?" Spike's baritone voice disrupted her epiphany, but she welcomed it. Deep thoughts made her depressed.

"It's nothing. Just worried about Dawn." It was a lie and both of them knew it, but from experience, Spike knew better than to press her. Buffy opened up when she felt like it, and when she did her thoughts and emotions spilled forth like a tidal wave. 

They stopped walking and Buffy seemed to shake herself out of her previous state. She twirled Mr. Pointy in her right hand as she looked Spike up and down. "Ready?"

Spike nodded, cracking his neck with a sickening pop. 

"How about-" Buffy and Spike both looked behind them where the Elf had been covering their backs, but now both stood slack jawed. "Where'd he go?" 

When he first encountered the small girl with curly brown locks, Legolas froze. She stood at the end of a tunnel, one that Buffy and Spike had ignored. She stood coyly with her hands clasped behind her back, wearing a brown velvet dress with a small red ribbon tied around her waist. As Legolas studied her black polished shoes with neatly folded white socks, he felt his blood run cold as he realized that her feet did not touch the ground entirely. The little girl smiled at him, but Legolas could do nothing but stare. She skipped towards him and clasped his hand, but her touch was only a phantom whisper of cold air that embraced his skin. Numbly, he let the girl lead him down the darkened tunnel, the thought that perhaps he should call to his companions did not even enter his mind.

Her name is Marissa and she's been missing for five months now. 


	16. The Taste

****

The Taste

Superior Elven sight gave Legolas the ability to see even in the pitch dark of the long tunnel. The girl herself gave off an eerie glow as she bounded ahead of him, turning her head to smile at him in reassurance. His senses were warning him with every step he took to be cautious, and as the little girl stopped at a corner, he pulled an arrow free and notched it in his bow. As he rounded the corner, his eyes fought to adjust to the sudden brightness of a flame-lit cavern, abandoned as far as he could tell.

He moved to step into the cavern, but felt an ice-cold breeze on his arm. The little girl was touching him, beckoning him to hesitate. She put her finger to her pursed lips and whispered. "You have to be quiet now. She's in there."

Legolas nodded and cautiously crept inside. He turned to see if the girl would follow him, but a frightened look crossed her face. "Be careful," she warned as she stepped away from him. "Be very, very careful."

Her figure shimmered then disappeared altogether, and for some unfathomable reason Legolas suddenly felt very vulnerable without her. Gathering his instincts about him, he silently walked in the middle of the cavern, spotting his query who was chained to the rock face behind her.

She did not hear him approach and gave a startled squeak that made Legolas immediately cover her mouth with a hand. He looked her over and studied the chains that held her arms above her head. "Are you injured?" He asked quietly.

Dawn quickly shook her head and wished she had something brilliant to say, but instead she blushed furiously. He gave the chains an experimental tug, wincing when they would not yield. "Was there a key?"

"A key? I used to be, but Glory's dead and Buffy jumped into this energy bubble and died instead of me and then I stopped – " Dawn silenced her babbling when she finally recognized the look on Legolas' face as one of complete and utter blankness. "Oh, you mean the lock. No, I didn't see one." Mentally, she was hitting the back of her head against the rocks.

Legolas seemed to shrug it off as he pulled a long dagger from his back quiver. 

"Nice knife." Dawn commented.

He swung it above her head, striking the metal with a harsh clang. 

"Holy crap!" She screamed. Legolas stopped when he saw her cowering under her chains. He waited until she raised her head and looked at him. "Well you could've warned me." 

He flashed her a brilliant smile and she thought for the first time in her life that she actually _swooned_. He grasped her right hand, pulling it as far away out of his knife's reach as he could while he repeatedly struck the chains. After a dozen fierce strikes, the chain around her right hand gave way. 

Dawn smiled up at him, but her face melted into panic as she looked past him. 

With senses screaming at him, Legolas turned to look but was too late to prevent the overpowering arm that clutched his sweatshirt and sent him flying across the cavern. 

The First grinned at his latest victim, struggling to rise to his feet. But the vampire stopped and cocked his head. "You are not the Slayer." He hissed.

Legolas met the beast eye to eye. "And you are not handsome. Are we through with pleasant greetings?"

The First roared his laughter, then looked at Legolas with a renewed gleam in his eye. "No matter. You will do just fine." 

"It's opening!" Tara bellowed with as much force as she could muster. 

Giles and Strider ran from their conversational hiding spot, feeling their arm hairs prickle with static electricity. The wind pummeled them from all fronts, swirling the trees and knocking over statues. Strider knew the portal must be gaining in power as he struggled to stay upright against it. He heard an ear-deafening scream, and at first thought it to be one of the girls until an orc landed a few feet away from him. He was about to skewer it with his sword, when he found the orc already had an Elven arrow imbedded in its torso. He studied it for a moment before turning to face the others and realizing that Xander was not watching his back.

"Xander, behind you!" 

Xander pivoted and with a speed that surprised even himself, he shot the crossbow just as an orc raised its dagger above its head. Taking a few breaths to calm and reassure himself that the quivering thing was in its death throes, Xander jumped and yelped when Strider clasped his shoulder. 

"Nice work." The Ranger commented.

Xander fought for something nonchalantly courageous to say. '_All in a day's work. It was nothing. Orcs? I slay them in my sleep.' _But the only thing he could manage was a shaky salute as Strider walked by him and towards the portal. 

Beyond the howling wind and zaps of the electricity spewing from the portal's opening, Strider was certain he could hear something. Willow and Tara were crouched on the ground together, surrounded by a protective circle and chanting words from an ancient spell book. As Strider hypnotically walked towards the portal, he held out a hand to them, motioning for them to cease. They looked up at him in obvious confusion.

Strider held a hand over his eyes to shield them from the white light and strained with all his hearing. Someone was calling to him…

"Strider! It's not safe!" Giles hollered. 

With his free hand, Strider waved him off. He knew that voice. "GANDALF!"

The Scooby gang held their breath and concentrated along with Strider. 

"…ragorn! Legolas!"

"Gandalf!" Strider repeated.

"Aragorn!" Strider strained to hear what the wizard yelled after that, but couldn't catch the words. Frustrated, the Ranger lowered his hand to peer into the blinding light of the portal, if he could only see past the brightness, perhaps he might catch a glimpse of –

Strider ducked as he did indeed catch a glimpse of something, hurtling towards his head. The object soared over his body and nailed Xander between the eyes, just as the portal closed.

A high pitched shriek alerted Spike and Buffy to Dawn's location. As they raced towards it, Buffy couldn't help but think back to a Discovery channel special on peregrine falcons and came to the realization that her sister's scream sounded oddly alike to that of the bird's.

Spike skidded to a stop as four vampires blocked their path, smiling widely so the two could see the full aspect of their fangs. The effect was lost on Buffy as she rolled her eyes and threw herself into a spinning kick, knocking the first one into the wall. Spike began throwing high punches and elbows, kicking behind him blindly as one tried to sneak up on him. Buffy grasped an arm and threw a vampire over her shoulder and onto the ground, still grasping the arm as she drove her stake into its heart. The vampire howled as it dissipated, and the arm that Buffy was holding vanished with a swoosh. Hands choked her throat from behind and lifted her above the ground, dangling the Slayer in mid-air before throwing her harshly against a wall. Buffy fell to her chest, feeling her healing bruises protest as new ones were added. The vampire grinned as it reached down to pick her up again, but suddenly had a confused look on its face. It looked to its chest, where the sharpened end of a stake could barely be seen through its thick leather. The vampire swore before exploding into ash. 

Buffy stood slowly, wiping the ash and dirt off her pants and pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Where'd the other two go?"

Spike shrugged and pointed down the hall. "Took off down that way."

"Buffy!" The audible cry sent the two back into a run to find Dawn, but Buffy stopped after taking a few strides. Spike continued, not noticing that she had halted in her tracks. Buffy stared down a darkened passage where a small girl was waving at her.

The First was playing with his newfound toy, swatting the human aside with backhands and laughing as it struggled to regain its footing. The man shot an arrow, and the First marveled at its quickness for a moment before snatching the arrow in mid-flight and crushing the shaft. Another arrow flew just as fast and the First had to duck to miss it. He growled at the human, then came to an abrupt conclusion; this was not a human. It did not smell or move like a human. As it reached back with lightening quickness to notch another arrow, the First rushed it, crushing its body against the wall as it wrenched the bow out of the thing's hands. The First ripped the knit cap off its head and snarled as it backed away. The creature had pointed ears.

Legolas was panting for breath, rubbing his shoulder where the vampire had rammed him into the wall. His bow had been ripped out of his grip and flung across the cavern. The vampire was staring at him, curling its lips in distaste. Perhaps it had encountered an Elf before.

"What are you?" It growled.

Or not. Instead of replying, Legolas whipped his arm back and retrieved one of his knives, spinning and slashing at the vampire's chest.

The First felt the sting of the blade as it grazed its chest, hissing more in surprise than in actual pain. The creature moved quickly, twirling its blade to slash then jab. The tides were turning in the battle as the First now found himself on the defensive, a strategy he distinctly did not like. But the creature over-compensated for a high slash and the First recognized the folly and pounced upon it. He seized the wrist holding the knife, then quickly spun the creature around so its left arm was twisted violently behind its back. The creature cried out in agony as the First twisted until he felt both bones snap under the pressure. The First let the arm fall limply to its side, then grasped its long hair and pulled its head back, exposing the neck. 

Legolas cried in pain and shock as he felt two sharp points digging into the flesh of his neck, and felt his blood trickling free.

He supposed it was like being suspended under running water, only the thundering was not the sound of water but of his blood gushing through his veins. Oddly, Legolas felt warm and relaxed. Shouldn't he feel cold if he was dying? He felt sluggish, as though his arms were encased in mud and he couldn't free them even if he tried. Through the sound of his blood, Legolas dimly thought he could hear the cry of a hawk. Perhaps Gwahir had come to rescue him. 

Dawn's cries for help had turned into one continuos and ear-shattering wail. She hacked at the remaining chain uselessly; she didn't have the strength to even dent the metal. But right now, the First was making a slurpie out of Legolas and her struggles became frantic as she saw the Elf slumping, growing weaker by the moment.

Spike ran in, looking from Dawn to the feasting First and back again, holding out his hand expectantly and Dawn knew without asking. Legolas' knife sailed from Dawn's hands and into Spike's as he morphed his face into its demonic form. Spike knew he couldn't plunge the knife all the way through for fear of hitting the vampire's victim still clutched in front of him, so instead he viciously slashed at its back.

The First released Legolas with a rumbling howl, and the Elf fell to the ground in a dazed heap. Spike backed up and feared for his life momentarily as the First reared on him, Legolas' blood dripping from his mouth. But something happened that took the cave's visitors by surprise. The First staggered as though it was suffering from vertigo; it flailed its arms for anything to support it. It backed away until its back hit a wall, and Spike was paralyzed in amazement to see the vampire actually gasping.

"Spike." Dawn urged quietly, and Spike suddenly remembered his comrades. He rushed over, and with a few powerful strikes, released the chain holding Dawn. She shook as she held the knife that Spike had handed her as he went to collect the fallen Elf. 

Legolas knew the certainty of the moment, that he must rise, but his legs didn't seem to feel the urgency as his mind did. Numbly, he felt his right arm being lifted around someone's head, and another arm lifting him from his waist. He felt guilty for not carrying his own weight; he would have to apologize to his rescuer when his mouth felt like working again. For now though, he felt more than content to have help and someone to lean on; his legs still didn't want to walk properly.

Although he had Legolas on one shoulder and Dawn hiding behind him, Spike couldn't help but hesitate and consider the opportunity lying in front of him. The First was slumped against the wall and visibly struggling; it was a weakness unlike anything Spike had ever encountered. Buffy should-

And then it hit him that the Slayer was nowhere near him. He looked down at a shaking Dawn. "Where's Buffy?"

Xander stood, pinching his nose and hoping that everyone would realize that his eyes were merely watering; he was _not _crying. And although Willow placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and inspected his bleeding nose with friendly concern, he did notice that everyone else (including his fiancée) seemed more interested in what hit him than his actual welfare.

Giles unrolled the scroll carefully, as though it was a museum artifact. He had no doubt that if the Council ever found out about this, the scroll in his hands would soon be locked in a very small room in London. Anya peered over his shoulder, fingering the edges of the yellow paper. "What does it say?"

Giles shook his head and handed the object over to Strider. Strider read the scroll over quickly and took in a deep breath. "What is it?" Giles prompted.

Strider didn't take his eyes off the paper, but answered in a low voice. "It's a message from Thranduil; Legolas' father. They are searching all records for a way to bring us back. Gandalf is with them; he is a great wizard, he should be able to find a way."

Giles furrowed his eyebrows. He knew that name, Gandalf. "A wizard, you say?"

Strider looked up and nodded. "An Istari. He is trying to find a way to reverse the spell."

Giles nodded. "So it is a spell."

Tara was looking at the scroll beside Strider, then looked into his face with an amused smile. "Why did he call you Aragorn?"

"What happened?" Buffy called as she raced up to the threesome. She held Legolas' chin in her hand, trying to look into his face but his blue eyes were glazed over.

"Your buddy here just about met 'is maker. Whoever that may be." Spike answered curtly.

"Ohmigod." Buffy mumbled as she traced over the bleeding puncture holes in his neck. "We have to get him home." She was about to get on the other side of him when she noticed his left arm was hanging at an odd angle. Instead she placed a steadying hand on his back as they wound through the tunnels quickly. 

"Where the hell were you?" Spike asked.

"I got sidetracked." She answered.

Spike nearly choked. "You what?!?"

She shrugged and showed him a round sphere clutched in her hand. "But I found a neat looking stone."

__

Last update for a while, going to Victoria for cousin's wedding but will be back in a little over a week.


	17. Home

__

I'M BAAAACK…

Thanks to all the well-wishers; the wedding was fantastic, as was Victoria.

Don't look too deep into the little girl's role, she's just there for convenience's sake.

****

HOME

Despite his earlier convictions that the car was the greatest feat of humankind ever, Legolas was beginning to have a change of heart. Every turn, brake, acceleration and lurch threw his already queasy state into a rampant need for sedation. Buffy held a firm palm against his pierced neck and as the car rounded a left hand turn with wheels squealing, Legolas could barely hold back a pained moan as all occupants in the car were knocked together and thrown to the right.

"Dawn, slow down! This is not Rescue 911." Buffy admonished loudly. 

Dawn was too busy keeping a watchful eye on the dazed Elf from the rearview mirror to stick her tongue out at her sister.

"Where the hell did you learn to drive like that anyway?"

Dawn shrugged her right shoulder in Spike's direction. "Spike's Defensive Driving School 101." 

Buffy glared at the vampire but couldn't help but notice that even with nerves of steel, he too, was keeping a firm grip on the door handle. He glanced at her with a lopsided grin. "Well someone had to teach her."

Buffy shook her head and sighed in resignation. "Kids."

"In case anyone cares, my nose is not broken." Xander informed.

Giles walked ahead of him, not bothering to look at the young man who was holding his nose as though it were, indeed, broken. "Yes, we care Xander." He sighed.

"Easy on the sarcasm, Giles. You're not good at it." Xander shot back.

"Aww, pooky," Anya stepped in front of him, drawing his hands away from his nose. "Let me see, sweetie." She stared at his face in seeming concern, then quickly swiped him across the head. "Suck it up, soldier boy."

Xander's hurt expression went beyond wounded pride; he looked as though she just trashed his Playstation.

Aragorn walked in front of them all and although they assumed his seriousness would not tolerate such childish behaviour, it couldn't have been further from the truth. The Ranger walked with his shoulders shaking in silent laughter as he shook his head. He liked them – they reminded him of his brothers.

A high-pitched ringing startled him; he stopped in his tracks and whirled around searching for the source. Giles pulled a small black object out of his pants pocket and began talking in it. Aragorn relaxed as he remembered the odd communication device. The others stood around Giles expectantly, reading his expression as a grave one - which didn't really strike them as odd; he always wore a grim frown.

"Yes, alright. We'll be right over." He snapped the cell phone shut. "Buffy has the palantir."

Aragorn's eyes widened, in hope or anxiety Giles could not tell.

"Legolas has been injured."

Giles could clearly read Strider's face now; it was one of apprehension. "We must go to them." Strider said forcefully.

Giles nodded quickly and the troupe quickened its pace threefold.

Calenuil raced through the darkened halls of Mirkwood's kingdom as fast as his long, lean legs could carry him. He did not have the speed of the Prince Linnethuil, Thranduil's long willowy son, but at the moment sprinting was Calenuil's newest attribute.

He burst through the thick double doors of Thranduil's counsel room without bothering to knock. Thranduil looked up with a jolt, clearly surprised, and for a moment Calenuil thought he might revert to his accustomed outburst at such a rude entrance, but Calenuil's initial fears were squashed. Thranduil instead beseeched him to speak with an urgent wave of his hand.

"We made contact, my lord." Calenuil informed breathlessly.

"When? Could you see them? Did they speak to you?" The King fired his questions off without stopping.

Calenuil shook his head as he regained his composure. "There were orcs roving at the entrance. We felled all that we could, but some escaped into the portal. Gandalf said he could see through the blinding light, that he could see a figure approach it. It was Aragorn."

Thranduil approached Calenuil with anticipation. "Legolas? What of my son?"

Calenuil shook his head slowly, not daring to meet the King's eyes. "Nay, he said naught of the Prince. But he spoke to Aragorn, and we could all hear him reply. We sent the message through."

"Then we are one step closer to bringing them home." 

Calenuil swung around to spot the voice that commanded the attention of all in the room, and found himself face to face with the Lord of Rivendell. 

It was a sight that stupefied the vampires. The First was huddled into himself, guarding his body with his arms. He hissed like a caged animal at his watchers, occasionally swiping a clawed hand into the air to warn the others away. The vampires stared in shock at their incapacitated leader, whispering amongst themselves and none daring to approach the feral beast.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Billy whispered to Tanus.

Tanus shrugged his shoulders, just as bewildered as the rest of them. In all his years of being a vampire, of knowing the First, he'd never seen anything like this. "I don't know. Anyone see what happened?"

There was a snicker, followed by full out laughter in one corner. Tanus and Billy both turned to find to offending source, and Tanus broke the crowd with a menacing stance as he glared at the two vampires. "What the hell do you find so funny?"

The vampires' laughter subsided but they grinned maliciously. "We should eat him." One said lowly.

Tanus hardened his gaze until it was lethal. "You better think about what you just said punk. I'm gonna ask you again, what the hell do you find so funny?"

The tension mounted among all the vampires who stood nervously as they watched the older vampire stare down the younger one, whose smirk never left his face.

"He's what the humans would term an invalid, you see." The young vampire motioned to the cowering First. "But down here, it's survival of the fittest. Don't look very fit, if you ask me." At this remark several vampires burst out laughing.

Tanus flexed his muscles as he took a step in. "I don't recall asking you. But right now I'm gonna tell you to get the hell outta my face before you lose it."

The cocky vampire stepped in until the two were inches apart. "Make me." And he spat in Tanus' face.

The other vampires refused to breathe as they awaited his reaction. Tanus wiped the spittle off with a slow hand. He exhaled slowly and audibly as he towered over the vampire. "Anyone who doesn't want to die had better leave now." He announced in a booming voice. He shook his head ferociously until his demonic exterior burst through with a roar. "Cuz it's gonna get ugly."

Aragorn burst through Buffy's bedroom door, ignoring the startled faces of Buffy and Spike and proceeded to the side of the bed Legolas was resting on. The Elf was propped up against a stack of pillows with his left arm sleeve rolled up to his elbow, exposing a very crooked looking forearm. Aragorn regarded the arm instantly, then let his focus drift up to the bandage Buffy was winding around his neck.

"What happened?"

"He got bit." Spike announced grimly. "By the First."

Aragorn looked from Spike to Buffy and back to Legolas. He pulled the bandage down slightly to grimace at the two puncture wounds on his neck. "How much blood did he lose?"

"I don't know." Buffy shook her head helplessly. "He seems pretty weak, so I'm guessing a fair amount."

The puncture wounds themselves didn't concern Aragorn too terribly; they would likely heal with little or no scarring. But the loss of blood worried him; he didn't know how long it would take to get the Elf back to full strength. Aragorn went back over the arm, picking it up gently.

Legolas' eyes shot open as he sucked his breath in. Aragorn looked at him apologetically but the Elf made no move to resist Aragorn's inspection. Instead he watched the Ranger prod the broken arm with patience, until Aragorn began to turn it over which emitted a loud grunt and deadly glare from Legolas.

"I am sorry, my friend." He said quietly. He stood and faced the two others in the room. "We'll need to splint his arm."

Buffy nodded solemnly. "Whatever you need, we'll help." At the mention of 'we' she turned and eyed Spike sharply, who rolled his eyes and huffed.

Legolas sat up suddenly with eyes darting around the room wildly. "I am sick."

Aragorn looked baffled. "What do you mean-" but Spike took the meaning instantly and grabbed a wastebasket just as the Elf unloaded all his stomach's contents. Buffy froze as soon as the scene started happening, but then with a flustered 'eww' turned her back on it.

Legolas slumped back against the pillows with a groan as Spike ran the wastebasket to the bathroom with one hand, plugging his nose with the other. Aragorn looked amazed at what just transpired. "I didn't know Elves could vomit."

Legolas glanced at him. "Apparently we can."

Legolas was forced to bite back all his painful protestations while Aragorn and the other two splinted up his arm. Having finished, Aragorn stood and folded his arms across his chest, clearly impressed with his latest work.

"Oh, stop gloating." Legolas growled.

Aragorn gave him a bemused grin before turning to the other two. "May we be given a moment?"

Buffy looked surprised but nodded vigorously. "Go for it. We'll just be, ah, downstairs I guess." She took Spike by the elbow and led the vampire out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Aragorn turned to Legolas, who now looked positively exhausted. "I don't think I like this world anymore." He sighed.

Aragorn nodded sadly. "I don't think you shall have to endure it much longer."

Legolas looked up at him questioningly, so Aragorn pulled the scroll out. "It is from your father."

The Elf's eyebrows shot up. "My father?"

Aragorn smiled and handed him the scroll. Legolas' eyes sped across the words and he laughed suddenly. "Gandalf." He said as he looked up at Aragorn with mirth dancing across his face. "Surely Mithrandir will find a way. And if not, then my father will most likely imprison him for the rest of his wizard years."

Aragorn laughed with him. It was probably true. Aragorn sat on the bed beside his friend. "Your father seems very concerned about you."

Legolas hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps."

"Or perhaps you owe him something. That makes much more sense." 

Legolas shot him a quick glare before giving him a sarcastic grin. "Well, it seems I am not the only one who will be hearing from my father when we return."

Aragorn's eyebrows furrowed as Legolas handed him back the scroll. "I suppose you did not read the ending."

Aragorn's eyes widened. "They sent for my father?!?" To which Legolas erupted in laughter.


	18. Leaving

__

Lisette - I know! I watched Matrix Reloaded on the weekend and I couldn't help but snicker, waiting for him to say: "this task can only be completed by you, Neo." 

****

Leaving

A soft rap on the door brought Legolas out of his semi-sleeping state. He looked over at the door to find Buffy peering in cautiously with a slight smile gracing her face. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I just thought maybe you were hungry." She apologized.

Legolas waved her over with his good hand. "Come in, please."

She shimmied around the door, carrying a tray laden with steaming soup and a glass of water. She juggled the tray with one hand while she closed the door with the other, breathing a sigh of relief that she didn't spill the contents with a spectacularly clutzy move. She placed the tray on the bedside table and stood beside it, fidgeting with her shirtsleeve. "Did you need any help?"

Legolas glanced up at her with a puzzled frown. "With what?"

Buffy shook her head while shrugging her shoulders slowly, fighting to remember her original train of thought. "With…eating."

Legolas chewed his inner cheek to keep from laughing. "No." He replied.

"Good." Buffy nodded, fighting to regain some sort of cool composure. "So…Strider tells me this might all be over soon."

Legolas followed her wandering eyes with a steady gaze of his own. "Yes."

"I guess you'll be glad to get home."

"Yes."

There was an awkward silence. "Although-" Legolas started.

Buffy cut him off with: "But there's probably somebody waiting for you back home."

Legolas thought for a moment. "Well, my family."

For once, Buffy met his eyes. "No. I meant like, a, um, you know. Girl."

"A wife?" Legolas' eyes grew wide, and if it were possible, he may have blushed. "No. I have not taken a wife."

"Oh." Buffy sounded very surprised. "Well, that's good." She started stammering again when she saw his confused glance. "Well not good. But, you're just so young and if you're going to live forever then I guess you sort of want to see what's out there first and…I should really work on this babbling thing."

"You're young too." Legolas replied.

Buffy gave a half-hearted smile. "And I don't live forever."

There was another awkward silence. Legolas broke it. "In our world, mortal men were said to have been given a curse and a gift from the Valar. The curse was that they were not blessed with immortality like the Elves."

"And the gift?" Buffy prompted.

"That they were not blessed with immortality like the Elves."

They both laughed slightly, and Buffy felt comfortable enough to sit beside him on the bed. "So your gift is life." Legolas nodded, smiling. Buffy played with the comforter that was draped over his body. "My gift is death."

The smile left Legolas' face abruptly. "Why do you say that?"

Buffy shrugged. "It sort of goes with the Slayer's life. We're born to kill, kill, kill and then when it's done we leave a good looking corpse." She noticed his furrowed eyebrows. "It means we die young."

"Why?" Legolas looked genuinely concerned.

Buffy shrugged, as though it wasn't all that important of an issue. "It just goes with the territory."

"That's a tragedy." Legolas stated.

It was Buffy's turn to look confused. "How come?"

Legolas' blue eyes bore through hers with a steely countenance. "Because a life that is so pure should not be ended so prematurely."

Buffy laughed. "Oh, I ain't pure mister."

Legolas smiled. "And humble." He touched her cheek with his right hand, until her blushing face was facing his. "You are pure. And beautiful. And that is why it is a tragedy."

He traced her lips with his finger, reaching up to play with the hair that fell out of her ponytail. She shivered slightly under his touch but didn't think of resisting when he slid his hand under her hair and grasped her neck, drawing her in until their lips met.

Aragorn emerged from the guestroom wearing his original black layers, holding his borrowed clothes in a neatly folded pile in front of him. Dawn took them and smiled at the Ranger.

"Guess you're not too sad to be rid of these, huh?"

Strider smiled widely. "It's not exactly appealing to my tastes."

"Well," Dawn shrugged, "if it's any consolation, I thought you were a total hottie in them."

Aragorn cocked his head and eyed the young girl. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome." She said aloofly. She placed the clothes in a hamper and faced the Ranger as he buckled his sword onto his belt. "I'm going to miss you guys."

Aragorn looked up at her and smiled sadly. "I feel the same."

"Nah," she said as she sat down on the top stair. "You're just saying that." 

Aragorn took a seat beside her and patted her knee. "I assure you that I am sincere."

Dawn sighed with a far-off look in her eye. "Is it really all that different from here? I mean, is it better?"

Aragorn studied the stairs. "Different, yes. But not always better."

"Can you take me there?"

Aragorn saw the pleading in her eyes, the strong desire to escape. "Why would you want to leave?"

Dawn shrugged, but struggled to keep the lump from rising in her throat. "Sometimes I feel like I don't really belong here. I'm not like everyone else." She felt embarrassed saying it, especially to someone like him. "Really, REALLY not like everyone else." She emphasized.

Aragorn felt an immediate empathy for the girl. "That is something to be cherished, not hidden from. I knew from the moment I met you that you were different. You are right that you are not like everyone else, but that is what makes you a rare treasure."

Dawn couldn't help the tear that spilled free. "So your world wouldn't take me, huh?"

Aragorn gave a short laugh. "Dawn, where I come from, I am not wanted either."

"Yeah right." She said cynically.

"It's true. I live with the Elves."

Dawn's eyes grew wide. "You mean with Legolas?"

"No, I live with the Elves from Rivendell. Legolas is from a distant kingdom."

Dawn sat up, rigid. "Did you say kingdom? What, he's royalty too?"

Strider had to think quickly, but couldn't stop Dawn once he unleashed the Elf's secret. 

"Is he rich? I knew he was regal! He's like the Prince William of your world, isn't he?"

Aragorn sighed as he began to descend the stairs with an overly excited Dawn at his heels carrying on about what it must be like to marry a prince.

"I should love the chance to study it. It's not everyday that we receive something from another dimension." Giles stated emphatically as he examined the blue sphere from every angle.

"And it's not everyday that big holes open up and spew out ugly looking demons. Can't have your cake and eat it too buddy." Xander reminded him.

Giles blissfully ignored him. "Just look at the craftsmanship."

"It's a _ball_." Xander pointed out.

"It's magnificent." Giles exclaimed breathlessly. 

"Yes, it's very pretty Giles. But if you leave it alone I'll buy you an ice cream." Xander tempted.

"It's amazing how perfectly sculpted it is. Can you just feel the magic emanating from it? It's utterly fascinating."

"Giles, I'm running out of witty comebacks here." Xander began tapping his foot but Giles expertly dodged acknowledgement of his presence. Xander huffed and was about to give up until he spotted a tea towel. He swiped the towel off the fridge's door handle and casually flung it on the palantir. Giles backed away from the counter with an impatient scowl on his face.

"Oh, don't give me that look. You were told." Xander wagged a minatory finger in the Watcher's direction.

"Is it here?" Both men looked up at the Elf in front of them, dressed in his familiar garb and looking much more poised. 

Xander scooped up the covered palantir before Giles could object, and indeed the older man already had his mouth open to do so. He placed the large sphere in Legolas' good arm; his left was hanging in a sling that Strider had constructed for him. "Where's Buffy?" Xander asked.

The question seemed to take Legolas by surprise, for his jaw hung slack as he searched for an answer. He didn't struggle for long as a cheery "I'm here!" announced Buffy's arrival into the kitchen. She bounced on her heels and met everyone with an exuberant and somewhat flushed grin.

Spike entered the kitchen and eyed her suspiciously.

"Wow." Xander said. "Aren't you the perky one."

"Yeah." Spike agreed, although much more dryly. "You look like you've been as busy as a bunny."

Buffy shot him a quick warning glare. The vampire gave her a challenging smirk before sauntering into the living room and flopping on the couch.

"Well," Giles clapped his hands together, effectively killing the tension and commanding the attention in the room. "Now that we're all here, I suppose we should plan our next course of action." He looked Legolas in the eye. "Which means getting you both home. Although, how that happens is anyone's guess."

"Why don't we just do like we always do?" Buffy suggested.

"How's that?" Legolas asked.

"Wing it."

"Mithrandir, are you sure that you know how to free them of this spell?" Thranduil eyed the grizzled wizard severely as Gandalf muttered under his breath examining the scorched bark of a tree.

Gandalf whirled around, bristling at the insinuation that perhaps his knowledge was limited in this area. "Of course, King Thranduil. A wizard always comes prepared."

"So does a king." And Thranduil motioned to his armed and stern-looking bodyguard.

Gandalf harrumphed at the indignation and went on with his studies, although one keen-eyed Elf did not miss the flinch in his whiskers.

"Is it almost time, old friend?" Elrond's voice was low and steady, and served more as a warning than as a question. When Gandalf did not answer as promptly as he should have, Elrond went on. "Gandalf, Estel is still out there-"

Gandalf pivoted and stared Lord Elrond in the face earnestly. "I will find a way. I promise."

Elrond clapped the old man on the shoulder. "I know you will. Whether out of love for Aragorn or fear of Thranduil's wrath, I know you will find a way." He smiled encouragingly, but his words did nothing to appease Gandalf's wariness towards the king of Mirkwood. As Elrond strode away with hands clasped behind his back, Gandalf threw another prudent glance at the bodyguard. The forbidding Elf fingered his bow lovingly while glaring at the wizard. Gandalf did his best to suppress his shudder and whispered a prayer to Elbereth.

"Hopefully when we get the palantir close to the portal something…will…ah…happen." Giles stood in the graveyard with his hands jammed in his pockets speaking to anyone who would listen. Which, at the time, was not very many.

Buffy sat on top of a raised tomb with her legs crossed underneath her and one hand supporting her chin. "And if it doesn't?"

"Ooh, then we could build a campfire and tell stories from our respected homeworlds." Willow looked at Strider and Legolas with a hopeful grin on her face. "I bet you guys never heard the one about the little mermaid."

"Poor Willow." Sighed Xander. "Missed your chance to be a girl scout, didn't ya?"

Willow kicked a pebble by her foot. "I got sent to computer camp." She muttered.

Dawn popped off the tree stump she was sitting on. "Well, that's it. Portal didn't open. We should all go home and try again in a week." And she started off in the direction of the Summers' household.

"Dawn, we've only been here for ten minutes." Buffy declared.

Dawn turned around and blushed slightly. "Oh, really? Huh, it felt so much longer than that. Lets give it another five and if it doesn't open then we should head back." This time she sat closer to Legolas, who stood facing Buffy.

Spike glared at him from behind a tree.

"I would say that we should exchange phone numbers or emails or addresses but you probably wouldn't-" Buffy stopped midstream in her sentence when she saw the completely blank looks on their faces. "Even have a clue what I was talking about." Buffy saw the slight grin on Aragorn's face but nearly missed the downcast glance from Legolas. If only there were more time.

"It's opening!" Giles announced.

Sure enough, the all-too familiar crackling and swirling wind filled the air and cast an eerie bright glow on the darkened grounds. As the scoobies took cover, Legolas and Aragorn started forward towards the portal with Aragorn clutching the palantir in one hand and his sword in another. They struggled to gain footing, but found themselves sliding back. The force of the portal had increased.

"Gandalf!"

Gandalf couldn't help but think that Calenuil needn't have shouted; he could see and hear the portal just as well as the rest of his Elvish companions. He held onto his grey wrinkly hat with one hand for fear that the thing would blow off with the strength of the wind. The Mirkwood Elves were fighting to stay upright against the gale winds that whipped their long tresses of hair violently. So absorbed was Gandalf in watching the portal that he nearly missed Calenuil's call.

"Gandalf, how do we stop it?" He shouted.

Gandalf looked at him blankly, feeling momentarily powerless. He searched his memory and readings but found his mind had failed him. 

"How do we reverse it?" Calenuil questioned in a booming voice that strained to be heard above the tumultuous roaring.

And it suddenly hit Gandalf, so hard that he would have slapped himself had he forgotten his dignity entirely. The Istari used the swaying trees as handholds to help slow down his chances of being propelled into the approaching fissure but he needed to get closer, otherwise how would Aragorn hear him?

Aragorn could not explain the feeling that drew him towards the electrifying opening, but only that he knew it well. He fought with all his might to take simple steps towards it, bowing his head to shield it from the thunderous wind. It called to him…

Legolas was frustrated by his lack of forward mobility but continued to press towards the gaping hole. A soft touch made him jump, and he looked down at the small hand lightly grazing his fingers. Buffy looked at him with a pleading in her eyes that made him want to stop. She mouthed the words 'good-bye' and he was about to reply when Aragorn shouted his name.

"Legolas! I can hear Gandalf!" The Ranger bellowed with excitement dancing in his eyes.

Legolas looked from Aragorn to Buffy and for a moment his being ripped asunder. He opened his mouth to speak but Buffy's look turned from pleading to resignation. "I know." She said and despite the background noise, Legolas heard her perfectly. "Go." She let go of his hand and urged him on with a small push.

Elrond felt his heart leap in his throat when he heard Aragorn's voice. The young man could barely be heard; even with Elrond's sharp hearing he could not make out what he said. But Gandalf was communicating with him and after carefully blocking out the raging portal, Elrond could discern the wizard's instructions.

"Throw it in! Throw the palantir to us!" He had to repeat it several times, each time his voice cracking with effort.

Aragorn had to repeat what he thought the wizard had yelled to him in his own mind. To him it did not make an ounce of sense but considering their week thus far, it really shouldn't have surprised him. He took one glance at the palantir before shrugging and throwing the heavy sphere with all his strength.

There was a sound of an electrical explosion followed by a drastic change in the direction of the wind. The palantir disappeared into the fissure with surprising velocity.

Aragorn and Legolas now found themselves struggling to not enter the fissure so quickly. Aragorn gave one quick look at the strange world called Sunnydale and the people he'd grown to admire for their quirky courage before letting himself be taken by the sucking wind.

Legolas knew he could not hold back. He turned his head to watch her, to say one last thing, but couldn't finish as his body was flung into the portal as though he were a rag doll.

He heard Buffy calling his name, just as his father had the first time. And again, he felt regret for not saying a proper goodbye. 

__


	19. Epilogue

****

EPILOGUE

Panic surged through Aragorn's veins as he found himself swiftly hurtling through blank space. His velocity gained in momentum and the hardy Ranger flailed his arms uselessly. He began to bellow as loudly as the wind swirling around him until he realized that all sound around him had stopped except for his wordless screaming.

He also found that he had landed on something solid and for all accounts he remained uninjured. 

Although he could not say the same for Elladan, his adopted Elven brother who lay beneath him.

"Get off of me, you dirty human." Elladan grumbled as he roughly pushed Aragorn off his bruised chest. Aragorn mumbled several words of thanks and humble apologies while two strong arms reached under his and hoisted him to his feet. The same arms spun him around until he was facing the wickedly grinning Elrohir. 

"Good landing, brother. Perhaps when Elladan recovers his pride you shall tell us all of your journeys."

Aragorn was trying to clear the hair and leaves from his face, not to mention regain his balance. The world had not righted itself for him yet. Elrohir still held two strong hands on Aragorn's shoulders, but Aragorn sorely wished that his exuberant brother would quit shaking his nauseated body.

"We almost doubted your survival!" Elrohir laughed. Then he leaned in close and whispered in Aragorn's ear: "To be quite honest, I don't think even Gandalf knew at first how to rescue your sorry selves."

Aragorn was about to respond for the third time but found himself cut off by a strong hand on his back. He jumped and looked into the smiling face of Lord Elrond. It was a very rare sight to see the stern Lord smile, and although it was not an ear to ear grin like that of Elrohir, for Elrond, it was no small feat. "Welcome home, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded warmly at his father. He looked over his father's form and saw the hurried chaos of Mirkwood Elves. "What's happened?"

Elrond followed his gaze and turned a concerned look back to Aragorn. "They are having some…difficulties locating Prince Legolas. Unfortunately, I do not think he had the most inviting arrival as you did." He gestured to the scowling dark-haired Elladan that only now had risen to his feet.

Legolas' mind bade him not to awaken so hastily; he wanted to remember this scent for the rest of his days. The smell of a freshly cleansed forest flooded his being; his senses told him that it had rained in Mirkwood, probably the night before. The ground underneath his prone body was cool and moist; drops of water trickled from the leaves above him and splattered on his forehead. Despite the fact that he had not opened his eyes yet, he smiled broadly. He was home.

Then the sounds of crashing foliage by careless Elves made his eyes snap open. Frantic voices were calling his name so he knew a timely appearance would likely be in order. He stood up slowly, stretching his arms behind his back and feeling the satisfying pop of jostled cartilage snapping back into place. He gently pushed the tall brush back to reveal Elves running in wayward directions, taking to the trees and whistling commands to fellow searchers. He was about to call to them when he heard his own name called.

"Legolas?"

It came as a question, as if in disbelief. Legolas turned at the sound of the tentative voice and could barely hide the shock from his face as he faced his father, the King.

Misgiving left the face of the King and was replaced by a quick flash of relief before the King regained his royal stance. He folded his hands in front of him and spoke in his regal voice. "Are you hale?"

Legolas nodded quickly. "Aye my Lord. Has Aragorn been accounted for?"

Thranduil thoughtfully glanced back to the clearing in the wood. "From what I have heard."

Legolas, too, seemed to draw himself up in a princely manner and followed his father back to the clearing. "And the portal?"

"Closed. Gandalf is performing some sort of spell with the palantir." He said the word 'spell' with a particular distaste. The scores of Elves nodded at Legolas with warm smiles and affectionate taps on his arms. He smiled and nodded at them just as kindly with his hands clasped behind his back. They neared where the opening had been and Legolas studied the spell-drawing Mithrandir with a mixture of wonder and anxiety as the wizard mumbled unintelligible words with his eyes closed.

But Legolas' attention was quickly drawn from Gandalf to three Elves carrying out the unconscious form of Calenuil. Legolas' eyes grew wide with alarm. "What happened to my uncle?"

Thranduil stated it as simply as he could. "The palantir took him by surprise."

****

THE END

You're right, I lied. Here it is:

The first thing Buffy noticed was that her limbs felt more tired than they should have. The second thing struck her as more odd than refreshing; why on earth would someone put pine-scented air fresheners in her bedroom? The third and final thing she noticed drew her wide awake; the fact that she couldn't remember going to bed in the first place.

She sat up quickly and instantly regretted the hasty action. She moaned and rubbed her head as she felt a pounding headache form behind her eyes. As her eyesight slowly adjusted to the natural light filtering through a forest canopy, she then realized that she was in a… forest. Her eyes darted back and forth quickly before she flopped back down with a grunt.

"Ah shit."

__

TO BE CONTINUED…

But not right now. 

Thank-yous:

Lisette: You can thank yourself for this cliffhanger. (By the way, I'm not so much multi-talented as I am multi-scatterbrained. Big difference.)

B-Slayer, Supergurl15, CaiteeMarsters, AlynnaLis, Europa, Ami, Mija, Fastpilot, PheonixStar, IceBubble and everyone else who took the time to review and most importantly, read. You gals made it worthwhile.

Look for the next installment on the LOTR site, since it will now take place in Mirkwood. And yes, there will be guaranteed romance in the next one.


End file.
